


The Monstrous Company of Thorin Oakenshield

by Mawgon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Explicit Consent, F/M, Hobbit Culture, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Multi, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 42,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgon/pseuds/Mawgon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gandalf tells him that he is to be hired as burglar, Bilbo will have none of it. A respectable gentlehobbit does not go on adventures, after all. Everything changes when Thorin dares to imply that Bilbo is, in fact, not very respectable. Now, Bilbo has to prove him wrong. If going on an adventure is what is needed to do that, it cannot be helped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A grave insult

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Anon's prompt "The Amazons of Erebor" : http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5346.html?thread=12036322#t12036322

Bilbo stared at the dwarf. There must be a mistake. Not that he minded having visitors, but he did not expect any. 

The dwarf had left his boots at the door, after wiping them on the doormat, and now held out a belt with lots of weapons dangling from it in his hands. “Where can I put these?”

“On the floor, if you don’t mind. I am afraid I am not used to visitors with such ... equipment.”

Even though the dwarf had perfect table manners, Bilbo noticed he was very hungry. So, of course, he fetched more food. Having guests leave his table still hungry would be death to his reputation as respectable gentlehobbit and good host. 

When he returned from the pantry, more dwarves started ... pouring in, in a way. Oh, they were all very polite, bowing and introducing themselves, heaping dirty boots on the dirty boots already at the door, and cloaks upon cloaks, with the hooks underneath long invisible. But it was a bit unnerving, nevertheless. 

The first dwarf (Dwalin) had just finished the main course and a small bowl of cookies, when he looked at Bilbo and said “Thank you very much for the delicious meal, Miss Baggins.”

Bilbo frowned. “I will have you know that, even though I may not have a beard, it is Mister Baggins, thank you very much.”

“Oh. Forgive me. Is there a Missis Baggins?”

“No – I am quite the confirmed bachelor. Why do you ask?”

“I was made to believe that ...”

He was interrupted by the arrival of yet another dwarf. 

And Gandalf. Well, that certainly explained a lot. 

The newly arrived dwarf (Thorin, if Bilbo had understood correctly) scrutinized Bilbo. “Your burglar looks more like a greengrocer.” It sounded like a compliment. “A male greengrocer, if I am not much mistaken.” That did not sound like a compliment. 

“Ah, yes. I may have neglected to mention that”, Gandalf replied cheerfully. 

“Explain yourself, wizard! I trusted your talk of being above such matters, and you promised me you knew the perfect addition to our party.”

“Well, sort that among yourselves”, Bilbo huffed. “I have to do the dishes.”

That excuse, it turned out, was not a good one, as the dwarves already were half done with that, and only asked his advice on where to put the clean dishes. To his surprise, all the silver cutlery (he counted it out of habit) was returned to him, something that never happened when Lobelia came over for tea. 

Meanwhile, Thorin and Gandalf were still arguing, but Dwalin had joined them, apparently taking Bilbo’s side. 

“Would someone care to explain to me what this is all about?”

Finally, Gandalf turned around and deigned to answer. “You remember that I asked you to share in an adventure?”

“And I recall having told you no.”

“Then that is settled”, Thorin said. “Look at him, I don’t think he is brave enough to face a dragon, anyway.”

“A dragon?”

Another dwarf took the opportunity to explain, in detail, how dragons killed their victims. When Bilbo came to himself again, he was lying on the couch. 

“You fainted”, a young dwarf kindly informed him. “Here, have a cup of tea.”

Bilbo sat up and sipped the tea he was handed. “Is there really a dragon?”

“Oh yes. That is what it is all about, actually.”

Good, then, that Thorin didn’t want him to join, anyway. 

“You will understand, wizard”, Thorin said at that moment, loud enough to hear it in the whole smial “that I do not want this Mister Baggins anywhere close to my young nieces. Especially not at night.”

Bilbo put the teacup on the saucer with so much force that the porcelain made a dangerous sounding noise. “Excuse me?!”

He stood up and walked over to Thorin. Staring at the dwarf required some craning of his neck, but he managed. “I will have you know, Mister Oakenshield, that I am a respectable gentlehobbit and know how to behave myself in the presence of ladies.”

“I do not doubt that. What I doubt is your willingness to behave yourself.”

Bilbo gasped for air. He had never been so insulted in his life! Why, not even Lobelias rude remarks about the quality of the scones he served for tea came close to this! Even she would not have dared to call into question his basic decency. 

He felt close to fainting again, but once an evening was enough. “I may have felt inclined to help you in your quest before, but now that you insulted me so, you will have to make do without me.”

“The ones who act all offended are the worst.”

The nerve! This left only one choice. 

“If that is what you think, I have to ask you to leave my house. Immediately after dawn.”

Thorin seemed wholly unaffected by being de-invited, which was remarkable, considering that even Lobelia would not have risked that kind of sanction. 

“In the meantime, your nieces shall have the best guest bedroom – I am a respectable gentlehobbit, after all.” And therefore he would not mention that, up to then, he had firmly believed Fíli and Kíli to be male. Now that he knew, it was sort of obvious, they did have somewhat more delicate features than the other dwarves. 

After showing them their rooms, Bilbo left the dwarves to discuss their secret plans among themselves and went to bed early.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite like the fanon that respectability is Serious Business for hobbits. It is, maybe, as important to them as "honor" is to many cultures. But of course one cannot prove that one has impeccable manners by dueling - that would be nonsensical. Therefore, Bilbo's decision to go on an adventure. ;)

Late in the night, Bilbo was awoken by song. The saddest song he had ever heard, of a lost home. He had tears in his eyes when it ended. And that was when a lone voice started singing anew. Thorin. 

Maybe he had judged the dwarf too harshly. It couldn’t be easy, to be without a home, and responsible for two young girls. And from what he had observed in Bree, the men there did behave highly inappropriately towards the barmaid. Thorin couldn’t know that hobbits were much more respectable than that, and of course he couldn’t know of Bilbo’s quite impeccable reputation. 

In the morning, Bilbo got up early to make breakfast. He would show Thorin! That would be the best breakfast they had ever eaten! 

While he was making scrambled eggs, he heard a noise and turned around. “Who’s there?”

“Just me. Leaving before dawn”, came the voice of Thorin. 

Now Bilbo felt really bad. “Listen, I am sorry for what I said yesterday. I overreacted. Please do stay for breakfast. It would not do to send you away without a proper meal.”

“Alright”, Thorin grumbled, and Bilbo suspected it was more the dwarf’s stomach speaking at that point. 

“I could not help but overhear your song last night”, Bilbo continued. “It must be hard to live on the road, especially with two young girls in your care.”

At that, Thorin frowned. “It is”, he finally replied. “This quest is our only hope. And we cannot suceed without a burglar.”

“Well.” Bilbo added the last spices to the scrambled egg, the ones that didn’t like heat. “I may be persuaded to come, after all. If you happen to change your mind, that is.” He would prove his respectability to this stubborn dwarf, and if it was the last thing he did before dying of dragonfire!

“Thank you.” It sounded as if Thorin had to physically force himself to get the words out. “I shall go and get the contract.”

Bilbo just skimmed over the text, to make sure everything was in order, before he signed. He didn’t care for the treasure. This was not about money, it was about reputation. Thorin would, however grudgingly, have to admit that a Baggins of Bag End was able AND willing to behave himself in the presence of ladies. Under all circumstances.  
And, alright, maybe Bilbo did pity them a tiny little bit, and did want them to get their home back. 

Even though Bilbo had taken into consideration the fact that he would not get a proper meal for elevensies, or lunch, when preparing breakfast, the dwarves managed to empty his pantry. 

That spared him the effort to ask a neighbour to make sure nothing went to waste. 

 

It had not been mentioned to him that he would have to ride a pony. In comparison to the dragon, that was not so bad, maybe, but, as they said, the stinging nettle in one’s hand was worse than the wolfsbane in the forest. 

Of course, Bilbo didn’t complain. Thorin already thought him too weak to be on this quest, even though he had admitted needing a burglar. Bilbo wouldn’t give him more opportunity for hurtful remarks. 

Bilbo sure hoped he would be successful with the burglar task. His experience was limited to stealing back his silver spoons from Lobelia. Which was not, strictly speaking, burglary, as he always waited for an invitation for tea, and just had to sneak past her to get at the kitchen drawer.

**************************

Dragging the hobbit along slowed them down considerably. The first couple of days, Thorin ended the day’s journey early, and the burglar still had the pained expression on his face and moved in the way Thorin knew well from the first days the company had gotten used to riding ponies. 

Not that she cared about his wellbeing. He was a male and no doubt deserved it. She simply took care to not damage the company’s burglar. Even though he might not be of terribly much use as a burglar or anything else, he would be of even less use if he was in constant pain. 

Their burglar also had a habit to stop whenever he passed some random flower. The first time Thorin had thought he had spotted something edible, or usefully poisonous, but when he continued on, she realized he had just wanted to look at it. 

It was a most peculiar habit. No male dwarf she knew would admit to wanting to look at beautiful things for the sake of it. The only things of any interest were valuable gems, and carving stone in traditional patterns was supposedly not pretty, but traditional, whatever they thought the difference was, Thorin had never understood. 

Mr. Baggins, though ... he would pull the reins of his pony, gently, as if not conscious of it, and gaze in awe at whatever little weed he had spotted. He didn’t even seem to notice that Thorin would stop, too, so that he would not fall behind. Unaware that any time had passed, he would press his ankles into the pony’s sides when he was finished.   
Sometimes, he would pluck a flower, but that only happened when there was a whole meadow full of them.   
There was no greed in him. 

Thorin would never admit it to anyone, but in the darkness of her own mind ... Mr. Baggins was somewhat ... cute. No doubt this was just emotional confusion because of his childlike body ... and the childlike excitement on his face whenever he saw something new. If he had the body of a grown dwarf, she was sure, his peculiarities would have no effect on her. No effect whatsoever.


	3. Chapter 3

The first days of the journey were uneventful. Bilbo volunteered to do all the cooking, mainly out of the selfish desire to get at least a decent dinner, which unexpectedly earned him the goodwill of all the company. Except Thorin. 

Which was unfair, really. Bilbo always made sure to place his bedroll as far away from Fíli’s and Kíli’s as possible, and not even Lobelia could have had found fault with his manners. 

Maybe, though, it was Thorin’s usual behaviour. The dwarf often stood away from the others, staring into the air, as if something heavy was on his mind. Bilbo longed to know what it was, but didn’t dare ask. 

One day, they came across a forsaken village. Thorin suggested making camp there, but Gandalf was against it. There must, he reasoned, be a reason why the settlers had left. 

“Are you sure about that, wizard?”, Thorin questioned. “We are all tired, and we will not find an as good place to rest before nightfall. 

“Have I ever led you amiss?”

Thorin grumbled something that Bilbo thought contained the word “burglar”. “Alright, we are not going to spend the night here, wizard.”

They rode on, and Bilbo had to admit he would rather have that Thorin won the argument. While he didn’t know about everyone else, he sure was tired, and would have very much liked to sleep.   
And eat something. 

At nightfall, they made camp on a meadow that had all sorts of molehills and stones on it. It was decided that they would eat only stale bread for dinner, and as if that was not bad enough, Bilbo stepped into some cowdung when looking for a place to put his bedroll. 

That was quite enough discomfort for one night! He would go find water to clean himself, at least. 

After some searching he found a small brook and sat down to clean his foot. 

He had just finished when he heard a loud noise. Not even dwarves were that loud. Bilbo sprang to his feet, but it was too late – a giant hand had taken hold of him and raised him high into the air. 

A troll, Bilbo realized as the creature wiped its nose on him. 

“What are you?”

Bilbo trembled. A creature that was capable of talking, yet ate other people – it was unnatural. 

“Answer!” The troll shook him. 

“A ... a hobbit.” He could cry for help ... but what would the dwarves be able to do against a creature thrice as tall as them, and thrice as broad? Not to mention the rumour that trolls had skin of stone. 

“Ahobbit? Strange. Are there more of you?”

“Of course”, he shrieked. “In the Shire, there are lots of hobbits.” From what he had heard, trolls couldn’t endure sunlight, so hopefully they would never get there. They needed a cave to hide from daylight, and in the Shire, those were rare. 

“Where is this Shire?”

He explained it in as wordy a way he could. Stall for time. He had to stall for time. 

“Not worth it”, said another troll’s voice. “Let’s eat it now.”

“I will eat it! I found it!”

“Crack its skull first, or it’ll escape.”

Bilbo was surprised he didn’t faint when he heard that. 

“You do not want to do that”, said a pleasant, deep voice. 

Thorin! What was he doing here?

“Hobbit’s brains are poisonous. If you crack his skull, the body will taste bitter and be, of course, deathly poisonous”, Thorin continued. “Here, try this instead.”

Bilbo couldn’t see what Thorin was offering them, but he could smell it. Delicious dried meat.

Thorin’s plan didn’t work – the trolls did take what he had offered them, but one of them also took, hold of Thorin. 

“What did you give them?” asked Bilbo as the trolls carried them to where, presumably, their campfire was – back to the deserted village. 

“The last bits of dried meat I had with me”, replied Thorin. “It is spiced with cleverberries. Stupid people feel dizzy after eating it. That should enable us to escape those stupid trolls.”

“Ha, I don’t feel dizzy at all”, proclaimed the one who held Bilbo. 

“Me neither. Because we’re clever”, said the one holding Thorin. 

“We caught you stupidheads” agreed the third. 

Bilbo hoped the trolls – who clearly were not very bright – would feel dizzy soon, but they didn’t. In fact, they spent much of the time proclaiming how well they were feeling. 

When they decided to rest a bit before continuing their journey, Bilbo saw the chance for escape come, but the trolls tied him and Thorin together with rough rope. 

“Thank you for trying to save me, anyway”, he said when the trolls sat down to rest. “Very noble of you.”

It was a pity such a fine dwarf was going to die.   
Indeed, covered with troll snot as he was, it was rather nice to have his back touching Thorin’s large one. Comforting. He felt a bit safer that way, even though he most certainly wasn’t.   
But he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing! After all, he had been hired as burglar. Not that he had experience with ropes, but he had, on occasion, helped his nieces detangle the threads they used for embroidery. They always asked him, as their mothers would scold them for using such a long thread in the first place.   
Such a big rope should be easy to de-knot.

“You are not so bad yourself”, Thorin mumbled. “It is a pity those trolls are too clever to be affected by the cleverberries.”

“Clever”, one of the trolls agreed sleepily. It worked!

It took Bilbo a lot of time to get them free, but the trolls seemed fast asleep by the time he was done. The rope fell down, and after looking at each other, Thorin and Bilbo made that they got away. 

“I never heard of cleverberries”, Bilbo wondered after they had put some distance between themselves and the trolls. 

“There is no such thing. The meat was poisoned. I just told them the story so they wouldn’t mention their symptoms to each other.”

“They are dead?” In that case, maybe they need not hurry so much. 

“I would not count on that. Maybe the poison is not lethal for trolls.”

“How did you get the poisoned meat so fast?” Bilbo asked as he hurried to keep up with Thorin. 

“I happened to have it with me.”

“You carry poisoned meat?”

Thorin shrugged. “I knew I would not have time to prepare it when I needed it.”

“How come you were there in time?”

“I saw you sneak away and wanted to know what you were up to.”

“Sneak away? I just looked for some water to clean my feet.”

“Next time, you tell me why you leave, where you go and how long you will be away. Speaking of water, you will want to wash.”

Then they arrived at the brook where Bilbo had washed his feet, Thorin first cleaned his hands of the remains of poisoned meat. 

Bilbo stripped off his waistcoat and shirt. He doubted he would ever get the troll snot out of the clothes.   
Getting the mess off his body and hair was proving quite difficult, too. 

“There you are!”

Nori’s voice if he was not much mistaken. 

“Are you decent, burglar?”

Bilbo splashed some more water onto his body. “It takes time, getting troll snot off. I would be very grateful if one of you would fetch me my other shirt.”

“And a bar of soap”, Thorin ordered. “Tell the others there is danger of being attacked by trolls.”

“Alright, but I demand to hear that story”, Nori chuckled, then snuck off. 

Using soap, Bilbo managed to get himself somewhat clean. “I’m finished”, he announced. 

Thorin handed him his shirt without looking at him. He had not realized dwarves were so prudish ... but maybe they weren’t. Nori had stared a bit when handing him the soap. 

He picked up his dirty clothes, taking care to only touch the shirt where it had been protected by the waistcoat, and started towards the camp. Good thing the snot had not reached his trousers, he really wouldn’t know what to do in that case. 

If anyone had been asleep, they were not anymore. All the dwarves were up and about, had donned their armour, and now gathered round the campfire to hear the story. 

Bilbo huddled at the fire, trying to get his wet hair and shirt to dry. Someone put a cloak around his shoulders. 

“Now, what happened?”

Thorin let Bilbo do the talking, only nodding at times. When Bilbo had finished the tale, a shadow approached the campfire. 

Gandalf. “Where have you been, wizard?” demanded Thorin. “We could have used some help!”

“Ah, but you solved the problem on your own, it seems.”

“At a price. I used up my emergency meat supply. And your burglar was covered in troll snot.”

Gandalf had the nerve to chuckle. As if that was remotely funny. 

“This is not funny, wizard. Especially since I do not know what effect the poison has on trolls. They may well recover before dawn.”

“How many trolls were there?”

“Three.”

Gandalf nodded, and proceeded to light his pipe. “Then you got them all. I came across them, and can confirm they will not make it back to their cave before dawn.”

“Seems you were right about the village”, Kíli said after a short silence. “Next time, tell us why exactly it is we shouldn’t camp someplace, so that we know to put some distance between us and the danger.”

“I did not know what it was that had happened to the village, then. And the ponies needed rest, you couldn't have traveled much farther tonight.”

“The ponies! And what about us?” 

“Dwarves can march for days without rest”, Balin said matter-of-factly. “It is only due to Thorin’s wise decisions that we never had to.”

One by one, they went back to their bedrolls. When Bilbo prepared to lie down, he suddenly noticed Thorin towering over him. 

“What can I do for you?”, he inquired. 

“Take your bedroll to the middle of the camp. I will sleep here.”

“The middle? Where Fíli and Kíli are sleeping?”

“Yes, that.”

“As you wish.” Bilbo gathered his things and walked over to the campfire, where he placed his bedroll in a respectful distance from the others. It was nice to be so close to the fire.


	4. Chapter 4

The dwarves spent the next morning raiding the trolls’ cave. Bilbo remained at their makeshift camp to prepare a decent breakfast of some roots and plants gathered nearby. Dwalin and Balin, Oin and Gloin took turns keeping him company. 

When it was already time for elevensies, the others arrived, carrying gold and weapons. 

“Here, that should be your size.” Thorin handed something to Bilbo that would be a dagger for the taller races, but was a decent enough sword for a hobbit. 

“If I must have a sword, this one should do”, Bilbo agreed. He rummaged in his pocket for a copper coin, which he gave to Thorin. 

“What is that for?”

“Payment.”

Thorin growled. “You insult me. This was part of the troll’s hoard, I would not expect ...”

“We don’t give sharp things as gifts in the Shire. It is bad luck.” Because it cuts apart the friendship. But maybe it was wiser not to mention that to Thorin. It was not as if they were friends. Not on Thorin’s side, for sure. 

“Ah. Strange custom.” But Thorin put away the coin. 

Bilbo got some compliments for his cooking, and was in quite a good mood when they started their journey for the day. 

Somewhen around noon, they met a friend of Gandalf, Radagast, who looked at the same time more and less like a wizard than Gandalf. 

Where Gandalf wore clean grey robes, Radagast wore ragged brown ones. On the other hand, no one could doubt that a man who rode a sleigh drawn by rabbits was a wizard. 

Just as the two wizards were exchanging important information, Bilbo noticed that his new sword was glowing blue. He barely had the time to ask Gandalf whether that was normal, when they already had to flee. 

Apparently the glowing meant that orcs were near. Not good! 

Gandalf advised them to leave the ponies behind, to further confuse the orcs, some of whom were already following Radagast. 

After some short moments of disorientation, Bilbo was pulled into an earth hole by a hand that turned out to belong to Thorin. “Careful, burglar”; the dwarf hissed. 

The cave led to a valley, where there were houses, so beautiful that Bilbo forgot to breathe for some moments. 

“Rivendell”, Gandalf announced. 

For some reason, the dwarves were not half as excited as Bilbo. Gandalf could only persuade them to ask for the hospitality of the elves there by explaining that they would need the elves’ help for their quest. 

“No talking to the elves”, Thorin ordered. “If they ask you about our quest, tell them as little as possible.”

When the elves approached on horses, obviously just having encountered the very same orcs that had hunted Thorin’s company, Thorin even pulled Bilbo in the inner circle of the dwarves, as if he needed protection. 

The elves, meanwhile, where perfectly polite, and invited them to dinner. Dinner! Proper dinner at a real table! 

A dark-haired elf led them to the guest rooms they were to use. The rooms were spacious, and there were three of them, each with one big bed and plenty of space to put bedrolls next to it. 

“Mr. Baggins, this room, and to share with the wizard should he turn up and not be given an extra room. Ori, Nori and Dori, as well as Bofur Bifur and Bombur, that room. The rest of us will stay here”, Thorin decided. 

Bilbo didn’t complain, but could not help but wonder whether Thorin still didn’t trust him. It hurt. Indeed, it hurt quite a bit, he thought as he looked at the big bed he was to use alone – the elves seemed to hold Gandalf in high regard and would give him a room of his own, undoubtedly. 

Not that Bilbo wasn’t used to sleeping alone, but that Thorin disliked him so much that he didn’t even want him to share a room with the male dwarves, even though it would get awfully crowded for them ...   
Bilbo had thought they had become friends, but obviously he had been wrong. 

There was a washbasin with soap and water and towels nearby, so Bilbo took off his clothes, dug out his hairbrush, and tried to achieve at least some semblance of cleanliness. 

The end result was barely acceptable. His head and foot hair was brushed, his body clean, but he had put on his last clean shirt after the troll incident.   
It would have to suffice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I have no remembrance of the room situation in Rivendell in either the book or the movie. From what I know, it was highly unusual for everyone to have their own bed in medieval times, doubly so if you were only guest somewhere. So that is what I use for reference, even though Tolkien modernized things a lot. After all, I cannot imagine that the elves of Rivendell have fifteen seperate guest rooms ready on such short notice.


	5. Chapter 5

When an elf came to fetch them for dinner – maybe the same one, Bilbo couldn’t really tell them apart, they were all so perfect and beautiful, and had all the same straight long hair – Bilbo noticed that the dwarves had likewise washed their faces and brushed their hair. 

And not only that. They had braided it anew. Thorin only wore two small braids in his hair, but even so, he looked majestic and kingly. And quite handsome ...

Bilbo stumbled, and the only reason he didn’t fall was because the elf quickly reached for his shoulder and helped him regain his balance. 

Thorin growled, and Bilbo made a point of it to thank the elf a bit louder than he would usually have. 

Dinner was delicious. There was venison, lots of salads that Bilbo didn’t recognize, small boiled eggs, honey, all kinds of nuts and seeds, and, best of all, mushrooms. Lots and lots of mushrooms. 

After the second helping, Bilbo grew a bit more aware of his surroundings. There was quiet harp music, and the elves talked among themselves in their melodic language. The dwarves were mainly busy eating, the only one talking was Thorin, who was apparently in conversation with Gandalf and the elf-lord, Elrond. 

There was enough food to eat until he was full, and Bilbo would have been happy and content to go to bed, but the elf attendant offered to lead them to the bathhouse. 

A hot bath! That was something he really needed now. 

There were four big bathtubs, and sure enough, Thorin decided who would bathe with whom. Bilbo got a bathtub for himself. Which would have been understandable if it were only that, after all there probably still were traces of troll snot on this body, but he knew it was not because of that. And he was rather surprised that Fíli and Kíli were still considered the age where it was appropriate to bathe with male relatives. 

“Be careful you don’t drown, Bilbo!” Bofur grinned at him. 

“I will try!” Bofur was right, the bathtub was much too big for a hobbit. It would be more like swimming in a pond. 

Bilbo took off his clothes and climbed into the tub. There was a bench inside, on which maybe an elf could comfortably sit. For Bilbo it only meant that he didn’t have to swim, but could wash standing up. 

When the first joy of being clean wore off, he felt more like drowning himself in a bath than ever before. The dwarves had put a kind of portable wall that they had found in the bathhouse between him and them, and there were splashing noises and laughter from over there. 

“Bilbo? You still alive?” Bofur yelled. 

“Still alive!” He confirmed, feeling just a little bit less lonely. Why didn’t Thorin ask? And why was that so important? Well, obviously, Thorin was their leader, but ... if he was honest to himself, that was not it.   
Maybe it was Thorin’s voice. 

It was a nice voice. Deep and rich, a bit rumbling, a voice like mountains would have if mountains could talk. And the song ... oh, the song. Bilbo would have given everything to hear Thorin sing again. Though maybe a happier tune. He would like to cheer Thorin up some ...

He sighed and tried to concentrate on bathing. In the clear water, it was embarrassingly obvious what thinking about Thorin’s voice did to his body. Bilbo felt himself blush. Apparently Thorin was right not to want to bathe with him. 

For a moment, really just a tiny moment, Bilbo imagined how Thorin might look, naked. Muscled, but with generous amounts of fat over the muscle, very hairy, and ... male. 

That was just not right. Bilbo was quite a normal hobbit, thank you very much. Yes, he was a confirmed bachelor, but that was just because he had not found just the right woman. He admired a head of pretty curls just as much as the next hobbit, and the beauty of a pair of dainty feet with blonde curls did not escape his notice. It was just that there never had been a hobbit without whom he could not imagine his life, and courting was such a hassle. An effort, that would have disturbed his daily routine. It just had never seemed worth it. 

And now here he was, on an adventure, of all things. If that was not a disturbance, he didn’t know what was. 

He climbed out of the bathtub and put on one of the clean bathrobes the elves had conveniently placed next to it. It was much too large for him, and half of it dragged on the floor. He pulled it up and folded it over the belt, so that it only touched the floor. Better than dirty clothes, at least. 

Keeping his eyes on the floor, he made his way out of the bathhouse. He thought he heard Bofur say something, but ignored it. It was obvious he was not wanted here. Not by Thorin. 

Someone laughed. It was a pleasant noise, like the tinkling of small bells, but still, it was laughter, and Bilbo was in no mood to be laughed at. 

“What is so funny?”

A tall elf appeared before him. “Oh, forgive me, Mister Baggins, I should apologize for not having told you where the bathrobes for children are.”

“That is quite alright”, he replied, remembering his manners. “I will be in my room in a moment, and only need to know whether you have nightshirts my size.”

“Certainly!”

“Forgive me if we have been introduced, but what was your name again?” The dark-haired elf seemed vaguely familiar. 

“Lindir”, the elf replied cheerfully. “It is a lot of new faces you see here, is it not? And if you are half as hopeless at telling one elf from another as I am with mortals, you are not likely to know any names anytime soon.”

“I suppose so ...” Bilbo mumbled. 

“Come, I will show you the way back to your room, and get a nightshirt for you. While we walk, would you tell me how you come to travel with dwarves?”

“I have no idea, really”, he admitted. “They just turned up on my doorstep, and somehow, it seemed a good idea to ... or actually, no, it did not at all seem a good idea. But then they started to sing, and somehow ...” Thorin’s voice. That was it. Thorin’s voice was to blame for everything. 

“Ah, that I can understand. I myself would walk any number of miles for a good song. Will you be in the Hall of Fire tomorrow night? There will be song, and poetry, and all sorts of tales. You could tell us about your adventures.” 

“That would be nice.” Thorin would not like it, though. Especially the “tell us about your adventures” part. Maybe he had told Lindir too much already? But they really had not talked about secret matters, had they? He should change the topic. “Have you ever walked a number of miles for a good song?”

“Oh, I did. I came here because everyone who does anything of consequence in Middle Earth will eventually turn up in Imladris. It is a great place to get inspiration for new songs.”

“So you are a bard?”

“I would not say that. I only play the harp, and am not really adept at spinning tales and creating speeches. Just a singer, as my name says.”

“It says that?”

“Yes. In our language, that is.”

Lindir loved to talk about music, and Bilbo found it easy to direct the conversation away from the quest. When they entered the building wherein the guest rooms were located, Lindir opened a wardrobe and took out a nightshirt. He shook it out and held it up to Bilbo. “What do you think?”

It was an ankle-length nightgown for him, but he wouldn’t stumble over it, and that was what mattered. 

“Just place the clothes you want cleaned on the floor at the door”, Lindir advised him when they arrived at his room. “I heard that, unlike dwarves, hobbits value cleanliness.”

“We do”, Bilbo confirmed. “But I am afraid I cannot do that to the washerwomen – you see, some of my clothes are covered in troll snot. It would be quite rude to expect anyone to wash that.”

Lindir laughed. “Oh, that must be quite the story. Do not worry, Lord Elrond and his sons often return from their hunts covered in orc blood.”

“The worse to add to that.”

“Oh, do not fret, it is no effort. Why, I shall wash your clothes myself if you will tell me the story behind it.”

“I ... I am afraid I must ask the leader of our group for permission to tell you ... but if Thorin doesn’t object, you shall get the whole story.”

Lindir smiled. “Good enough for me. And your clothes, I suppose, will tell their own story.”

“Alright”, Bilbo conceded, and handed over his dirty clothes. “Though I doubt they can be saved. Maybe I will have to burn them.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really starting with this chapter, but soon, things will get a tiny bit darker with this story. No worries, I will describe it all very tastefully, just like Tolkien does ... just in not as good a style.  
> Enjoy another fluffy chaper in which not much happens.

After wishing Lindir a good night, Bilbo closed the room door behind himself and changed into the nightgown.  
Sleep came quickly after a hard day, but in the morning, Bilbo still found the salty traces of tears on his face.  
Why did Thorin hate him so? Maybe his thoughts about Thorin were inappropriate, but Thorin could not know that! And, anyway, he was a respectable gentlehobbit and would soon get the better of those feelings.  
Maybe a night of thinking of nice, normal hobbit women would cure him. He would have to sacrifice his last clean handkerchief for this, but it would be worth it. 

When looking for something to wear for breakfast, he found a set of clothes placed on the small table next to the door. Examining it, he saw it was clothes of elvish make, yet small enough to fit him. Probably made for an elven child, he reasoned. Anyway, it would be nice to wear clean clothes. 

And it might annoy Thorin, which was an added benefit, really. The stubborn dwarf would have to acknowledge that _some_ people _did_ appreciate his good, gentlehobbity manners. 

Having left his room, Bilbo lingered on the hallway, waiting for some elf to pass by. It would be terribly embarrassing to be found in the entirely wrong part of the building, having lost his way. With all those stairs, Rivendell was not built like a sensible hobbit hole, but completely confusing. 

“Morning Bilbo!” Fíli’s head poked out of a bedroom door. 

Kíli’s head followed. “You look splendid!” 

“Kíli!”

“What? Just saying the truth. He does look like some elven prince, doesn’t he?”

They both slipped out of the door, and closed it gently. “Thorin is still asleep”, Fíli whispered.

Thank goodness! Thorin might have skinned him alive for accepting Kíli’s compliments ... even though Bilbo really didn’t know how he could avoided it. He had not even thanked Kíli, which was rude, but better than doing something that was anything at all like flirting. 

“Good morning, both of you”, he replied quietly. “Do you know where breakfast is served?”

“No idea. We hoped you would know.”

Soon, they were joined by Bofur, who congratulated Bilbo on having managed not to drown in the bath. His gaze lingered on Bilbo longer than usually. 

“I told Lindir of my accident with the trolls”, Bilbo explained. “He took pity on me.”

“Ah. Beautiful clothes, indeed. Most intricate embroidery I have ever seen”, Bofur mumbled. 

There was really no reason for Kíli to chuckle. 

“Good morning!”

Gandalf walked towards them. “What are you waiting for?”

“Breakfast”, Bofur replied drily. 

“That is, we are looking for it”, Kíli added. “Or would, if we were not afraid of losing or way.”

“I can help with that.”

Gandalf led them through the hallways as if he was at home in Rivendell. They arrived in a small room with big windows. A sunlit table was set for fifteen people, and there were baskets with bread and boiled eggs, glasses with honey and plates full of butter. 

“What about Thorin? He won’t ask the elves for directions, I am sure.” Bilbo hated himself for being so concerned about Thorin, but, well, just because someone was grumpy and brooding didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a proper breakfast.

Gandalf smiled. “I shall go back and fetch the others.”

Everyone started eating as soon as the wizard was gone. Everyone except Bilbo. 

“Something wrong with you, lad?”, asked Bofur. “No appetite?”

“I thought I’d wait until everyone is here.”

The dwarves exchanged glances. “No wonder Dwalin mistook you for a woman”, Kíli mumbled. 

“Kíli!”

“What the lad means to say”, explained Bofur “Is that we have never met a male with such flawless manners.”

“Thorin doesn’t seem to think so.” 

Again, they exchanged glances. “Thorin has more reason to be wary than most of us”, Bofur explained. 

“Another reason, you mean, besides being the guardian of his nieces?”

“Ah, about that”, Bofur said hastily. “There are only male dwarves in this company. Do you understand? If the elves ask you ...”

“Alright. Only males. Why, if there were female dwarves, it would obviously be them who would have gotten a separate bathtub.” He was still a bit miffed about that. 

“Exactly.” Bofur grinned. 

“As things are, a well-mannered gentlehobbit like you could not be expected to share a bathtub with us rowdy dwarves”, Fíli added. 

Well, that was a reason he could accept. It was, of course, nonsensical to suspect the elves of meaning any harm, but Bilbo could understand that Thorin didn’t want his nieces to be separated from him in what he considered enemy territory. 

 

When Thorin arrived, he immediately noticed Bilbo’s new clothes. “Made friends with the elves, have you?”

“Indeed”, Bilbo replied stiffly. “They are very generous.”

“And of course you told them everything about our quest.”

“Of course not!” Bilbo puffed himself up. “I did, however, promise Lindir to tell him about the incident with the trolls. I see no harm in it, considering that it was not a planned part of your quest. I should hope so, at least.”

Thorin glowered. “You will not tell him about the poison.”

“We could not possibly have escaped without that!”

“You tell them that the trolls needed a break, for whatever reason, and that you managed to untie the ropes we were bound with.”

“Am I to tell them that you just walked up to them and let yourself be taken prisoner like a fool?” 

“Exactly that. I do not care how stupid you make me look.”

Bilbo huffed, but said no more and started his breakfast.


	7. Chapter 7

While exploring the gardens of Rivendell, Bilbo found that elves were very different from hobbits not only in height and looks. In Hobbiton, everyone would have stared at as unusual a stranger. Here, though, elves just passed him by, acknowledging his presence with some elegant inclination of their heads, but not asking him questions like “Why don’t you wear shoes?” or “Why is your hair so curly?”. An elf visiting the Shire would be quite surprised by the curious children (and nosy adults), Bilbo assumed. 

He was just admiring the view of the river from one of the terraces when he heard steps next to him. 

“How do you like Rivendell?”

Bilbo was reasonably sure it was Lindir who was talking to him, even though the elves still looked very much the same to him. 

“Very much! The gardens are beautiful!” Not as colourful as his own garden, the elves seemed to prefer subtleness – like the embroidery on the clothes he was wearing at the moment, which was done in almost the same colour as the fabric, visible only at second glance. 

“I am glad to hear that you like them. They were planned by the Lady Celebrian, a long time ago.”

“Have I had the pleasure of meeting her?”

“No.” The elf sighed. “The Lady is long gone, sailed to the West. It is a sad tale, and maybe I shall tell it to you in the Hall of Fire, when our Lord Elrond is elsewhere. I would not want to remind him of his grief.”

Oh! “Sorry – I didn’t mean to ... I didn’t know she was ...” 

“You could not know.” The elf smiled. “I should not tell such tales of woe on such a bright morning. You will be delighted to hear that your waistcoat could be rescued.”

“Really?” 

“Oh yes. It only has to dry.”

“I am very much indebted to you.”

“Indeed, you are. You owe me the story of how you got your clothes thus defiled.”

“Of course! Do you want to hear it now?”

“There is a time for everything, and I think it would be better to tell it tonight, when more of us have the chance to listen to it.”

Lindir accompanied him on his walk, pointing out the subtle beauties he had not noticed before. 

The walk gave Bilbo plenty of time to sort his thoughts. Elves tended to live very long, so they would know a lot, right? And therefore, Lindir might be able to help him with his recent problem.   
It was worth a try. 

“You are, I take it, something of an expert concerning songs?”

“Something of is an apt description, yes”, Lindir laughed. 

“Have you ever heard a voice that was so beautiful you would have done everything to hear it again?”

The elf smiled. “Oh yes.”

“Is that magic?”

“Ah! A difficult question if there ever was one. Mortals call all sorts of things magic. Let us say that it is not the kind of magic that is the domain of our dear friend Mithrandir, whom you know as Gandalf, but the kind of magic that is innate to all living beings on Arda.”

“A beautiful answer, but, I am afraid, not a helpful one.”

“What is it then, you want to know? Ask wise questions and you shall receive wise answers.”

“I think”, murmured Bilbo “I just want to know whether that sort of thing is done ... intentional.”

“Much better.” Lindir beamed. “As you stand before me safe and sound, I may safely say that no, it is not. Had you been under the influence of some evil spell, I should know – and you, too, would know in your heart.”

“How could I know? I am just a simple hobbit, and know nothing of magic.”

“You would know, because you would truly do everything to hear that voice again. Tell me, then, would you torture the owner of that voice, to hear screams of pain? Or rip out someone else’s heart to give as payment for a song?”

“No!” He had been careless with his words. “I didn’t mean everything. Just, you know, everything that is acceptable within polite society.” And maybe a bit more. Going on adventures was not within that scope. 

Lindir inclined his head and smiled. “Then you have nothing to fear.”

“But what does it mean? Why does it happen?”

“Ah! I do not know about your kind, but for elves, it usually means we have fallen in love.”

“With a voice? I mean, if it is only the voice ...” 

“Truly, my beloved also has beautiful hair, to say nothing of her other virtues ...” For a moment, Lindir seemed to be far away. “Is that fine hobbit woman you are talking of ugly?” 

If only this were about a hobbit! “Um, no. Not really. But maybe ... not really a nice person?”

“You seem uncertain. Maybe you know of a truth in your heart that your mind has yet to discover.”


	8. Hall of Fire

Lindir saw to it that Bilbo got all his usual meals, despite elves never having heard of second breakfast, or elevensies, or, really, most of the meals. They only ate three a day! No wonder they were all so thin!

They did, however, eat dinner, and that was when Bilbo saw the dwarves again for the first time that day. Ori talked exitedly about the library, and Bofur showed Bilbo a tiny model of the main building that he had carved out of wood. “It is all too fragile for a proper house”, he commented, “but it is nice to look at.”

When the first elves started to leave the table, Bilbo rose, too. “Please excuse me”, he stated “I promised Lindir I would join him in the Hall of Fire.”

“Oh! I will come, too!” Ori exclaimed.

“What is so interesting about fire?”, asked Kíli.

“The Hall of Fire is their place for telling stories and singing songs, and all such”, explained Ori. “I must hear another elvish song!”

Much to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin joined them. 

The Hall of Fire would have been a rather cosy place if it had not been so large. The ceiling was much too high for comfort, and to walk from one end of the hall to the other took more time than Bilbo thought sensible. 

At first, he was pleasantly surprised when Thorin sat down next to him on a couch. However, he had only just started to tell the story of their encounter with the trolls when he realized that Thorin was just there to make sure he didn’t tell too much. 

The elves were more interested in the tale than Bilbo would have thought. Maybe their immortal lives had become boring. They certainly had never experienced anything like that!

“Why would you make your presence known to the trolls without any hope of defeating them, master dwarf?”, asked a fair-haired elf. 

Thorin glared at her. “As you can easily see, Mr. Baggins here is in no way able to defend himself. It shall not be said that I am entirely without honor. He joined my company, and is now my responsibility.”

With that, Thorin got up and walked to the far end of the hall.

“Dwarves! That honor of theirs will get them killed some day!”

“Well, I thought it rather decent of Thorin to try and help me”, Bilbo replied, feeling peeved. If only he could tell them that Thorin had been much smarter than just that!

“She means no offense”, Lindir said. “The customs of mortals seem rather strange to us, is all. Now, as Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen are nowhere to be seen, maybe I can tell you of the fate of Lady Celebrian.”

With growing horror, Bilbo listened to Lindir. Orcs! One didn’t have to explain to him what the unspeakable things those creatures had done to Celebrian were. Her spirit, Lindir explained, had been crushed after that, and neither the healers’ art nor the love of her family could easen her distress. So she had sailed to the West, which, from what Bilbo gathered, was somewhat, if not exactly, like death. 

As Lindir described Celebrian’s suffering, Bilbo’s eyes wandered to Thorin. Bofur’s words echoed in his mind. “More reason to be wary than most of us” ... had Thorin lost a female relative to the cruelty of men? Tears welled up in Bilbo’s eyes. 

If Lindir noticed, he attributed it to the tale, as he did not ask about it. He did, however, change the topic once again, to songs and poems, and asked about those Bilbo knew.


	9. Chapter 9

The next couple of days, nothing of importance happens. Bilbo learns some bits and pieces of the elves’ language, Sindarin. There is another, older language, Lindir explains, but it has fallen out of use. 

Thorin mostly glares and glowers whenever Bilbo meets him. There are, however, moments when there is a smile on Thorin’s face, mostly when he’s watching Fíli and Kíli practice fighting, or, in Kíli’s case, archery. 

Some young elves tease them mercilessly about their alleged lack of skill, but the young dwarves shrug it off, and even Thorin only glares. 

Most of the dwarves find someplace to spend their days. Oín likes to watch the healers go about their daily work, Balin reads through the library, Bofur tries to imitate the woodcarving, and so on. 

The only outlier is Bifur. Judging from the axe embedded in his head, Bilbo would have assumed that he is a fierce warrior who would like to spar. Quite the opposite, Bifur always finds some quiet corner to sit in, listening to some harp music or admiring some flowers. Occasionally he is joined by his siblings, but he also seems to like being alone. 

“The one with the axe in his head is strange”, Lindir remarks one day.

“Well, yes, he seems to only speak his native tongue. Frankly, I am surprised he survived at all.” 

“That is not what I wonder about”, replies Lindir. “And I fully understand why he does not want Lord Elrond to try and remove the blade. No; the strange thing is that the axe is of dwarvish make.”

Bilbo frowns. He had not noticed that, he is no expert on weapons, and thought it rude to stare, anyway. Now that Lindir mentions it, though, it is very strange. One would expect an orcish axe. Maybe one made by men. But a dwarven axe in the head of a dwarf? “Strange, indeed. Maybe it has been embellished by the dwarves, after it got stuck there? So it looks nicer?”

“Possibly. I would have to get a closer look to determine that, and I do not expect I will get one.”


	10. The Map

Bilbo became so used to watching Thorin from afar in those peaceful days in Rivendell, that he was rather surprised when Thorin talked to him over dinner one day. “Burglar, you, too, are to be present.”

“Where?”, he inquired. 

“Did no one tell you? Elrond will have a look at our map tonight.”

“Wouldn’t daylight be better for that?”, Bilbo replied, still surprised that Thorin even wanted him there. 

“It is a special kind of writing”, Ori told him. “Can be read only in moonlight.”

Bilbo was one of those standing closest to Elrond during the reading of the map, and with a pang of disappointment, he realized that Thorin wanted him there because of his job as burglar. Of course he would have to know about the way to get into the mountain. 

“It is curious”, Elrond observed “That you did not know more about the secret entrance. The map is not that old.”

“A lot of knowledge has been lost after we had to flee.”

“Of your own map?”

Just like Lindir, Elrond did not make assumption, just observed. Thorin was unnerved by it nevertheless. “I did not keep it back then”, he mumbled. “It is a family heirloom that only recently got into my hands.”

Elrond nodded and continued with his explanation. 

A door that only becomes visible on one special day! Quite impractical, in Bilbo’s opinion. But then, in the Shire, doors were mainly needed to keep the weather out and allow hobbits to get in. 

 

That night, Bilbo had a lot to think about. What Lindir had pointed out was true. The axe in Bifur’s head was of dwarvish make, and some of the runes carved into it were half buried in the dwarf’s head, so it seemed unlikely that they were added later. 

And now the map! Why, Bilbo certainly hoped they weren’t outcasts who had stolen the map! It would not really add up, though. At least Oin and Balin were much too old for such follies, even by dwarvish standards, he guessed. And Thorin was so concerned about the safety of his nieces, he would surely not endanger them by doing anything stupid ... same with Dori and Nori, who were fiercely protective of Ori ... and then there was the fact that Bifur did not seem like someone who in any way deserved an attack, much less an axe to the head. 

Very strange indeed! It was a good distraction from the rather inappropriate thoughts about Thorin, at least.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot remember how exactly the goblin cave adventure ended, so I will leave most of it out - we already saw it, anyway.

When he awoke to the sight of Thorin’s blue eyes, Bilbo was very pleased. At first. Next thing was Thorin hissing “Get up, we leave!”

And that was that. Bilbo did as he was told, changing into his clothes when Thorin had left the room, and packing his things. Leaving before breakfast! And without saying goodbye! Really, it was not respectable.  
Hopefully Lindir would understand. Bilbo was almost certain the elf had some suspicions that it was not a nice hobbit woman who had the most enchanting voice Bilbo had ever heard. After all, Bilbo had told him what had caused him to travel with the dwarves, and it was not that hard to draw the conclusions from that – if one accepted that it was possible for a male to fall in love with another male, something Bilbo had still trouble with. 

Lindir would likely understand why Bilbo just had to go with Thorin, wherever, and whenever Thorin wanted to leave. 

He did leave a letter, claiming that they had no time to lose, but not explaining anything else. 

 

Thorin’s reason for leaving was the fear to be hindered by the elves. Quite silly, really. The elves had been most generous hosts ... though if the map was stolen ...

Bilbo was glad he had gotten some days of rest. They had entered the mountains, and it didn’t look like they would get anywhere close to roots or nuts or berries, so it was a good thing he had been able to put on some weight. 

The path was dangerously narrow, and Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder how long ago it was that it had been carved out of the mountain. It would be no surprise if it had been damaged in the meantime, and they would have to walk all the way back again because a part in the middle was missing. 

More than once, Bilbo slipped on the path and would have fallen to his death had not one or the other of the dwarves caught him in time. 

Thorin always glared at him after such incidents, silent accusation in his gaze. 

When they found a cave to spend the night in, Bilbo was close to turning around and returning to Rivendell. After all, he was just a burden to them. Thorin had had to rescue him from the trolls, and he had been no help during the orc attack, and now this ... 

All the others had gone to sleep when Bilbo was still awake, wondering whether Thorin had even told him the truth about their quest. Maybe they were outcasts and thieves. Strangely enough, the thought that Thorin didn’t trust him hurt more than the shame of being allied with criminals would. 

Bilbo had almost made up his mind to leave when his gaze fell on the sword at his belt. The sword Thorin had given him. It was a good one, and Thorin really didn’t have to ...

And it glowed blue. Confound it!

“Wake up!” he yelled. “Danger!”

Shortly after that, the floor moved, and they all fell. There were lots of goblins, but before he could see anything more, Bilbo fell once again. 

 

The only good thing about being separated from the dwarves was that they didn’t have to look out for him anymore, Bilbo thought when he tried to find his way out of the damp cave he had landed in. Poor Fíli and Kíli – he really didn’t want to imagine what those goblins would do to young girls ... although they certainly wouldn’t be nice to the men, either.   
It was not often that Bilbo wished to be bigger and stronger, more like his ancestor Bullroarer Took, but this was one of those times.


	12. Chapter 12

Bilbo counted the dwarves three times, just to be sure they were all there. Only then did he allow himself a sigh of relief. It did vex him somewhat, though, that they didn’t feel it necessary to say anything to him, or even acknowledge that he was ... oh, right. The ring. He was still invisible. 

“I told you he would leave as soon as we get into real danger”, Thorin said. “To him, this was just an adventure. Nothing important. He could take it or leave it, and now he has left.”

He couldn’t really blame Thorin, he supposed. After all, he had thought of leaving. Now, though, there was no way he would. Maybe he just imagined that hint of disappointment in Thorin’s voice, but nevertheless, he would prove himself a hobbit of his word. 

While Thorin ranted on, he snuck behind a tree and pulled off the ring. Then walked onto the clearing as if nothing had happened. 

They stared at him. After a while, Bofur murmured “Told you so”, and the silence was broken. The dwarves cheered, and Bilbo thought he saw a small smile on Thorin’s face. 

“I signed a contract. You didn’t think I would just leave, did you?”

Thorin shrugged. “One never knows.”

Bilbo found himself quite annoyed. So, fine, maybe it was a reasonable assumption that he would leave, but only because Thorin was so rude!   
And anyway, if Thorin had not sung that song back then ... if Thorin’s voice was not so enchantingly beautiful ... Bilbo would now be safely sitting in his favourite armchair, reading a book.   
It was impossible, all of this. A hobbit going on an adventure. A hobbit in love with a dwarf. Even worse, a male hobbit in love with a male dwarf – by rights, this should not happen at all. He had not even known it was possible. And it was not something Thorin would appreciate. Not that Thorin liked him at all, even as a friend. 

Though maybe it was common for dwarves to fall in love with males? With only one third or so of them female (as he had read in some book), it would make things much easier for them ... and that also would explain why he felt so attracted to another male. Maybe it was a dwarf thing. 

However, if that was common, would male dwarves bathe with other males then? It was not something he could ask. Maybe they had different rules of propriety ...

“Are you alright, burglar?”

Bilbo jumped. “What? Oh, yes, I am fine, thank you.” He smiled at Thorin. “I do hope you are well, too?”

Maybe that journey would not be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my headcanon, Bilbo has never even heard of homosexuality. It is not so much shamed as not mentioned in the Shire. Maybe there are homosexual couples who are known to be confirmed spinsters/bachelors.


	13. Chapter 13

Yes, after the goblins, things had been very nice. Of course that couldn’t have lasted, but did it have to be orcs and wargs? 

Bilbo clung to the lowest branch of the tree they had climbed. Everyone was safe, at least for the moment ... or were they? He squinted his eyes and counted, but then he heard a growl, jerked his head, and suddenly he knew who was still on the ground. 

Thorin. The warg clawed at his clothes, and had already torn off Thorin’s cloak. Thorin was fighting bravely, but it was only a matter of time – he was already tired, and now bleeding from several scratches. 

Bilbo desperately wanted to do something, but what? The ring would be of no use, those beasts sure were able to smell them. If he just jumped down and involved himself in the battle, Thorin would have to rescue him, too. 

The single orc accompanying the wargs swung his weapon at Thorin, and Bilbo closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Thorin was on the ground, the orc standing next to him. “A she-dwarf”, drawled the orc. “That will be fun!”

Bilbo blinked. Stared. Thorin’s shirt was slashed open, and above the gashing wound, Thorin’s chest was maybe just a little bit too rounded for a male. 

The blood in his veins seemed to turn to ice as it dawned on Bilbo what exactly the orc had in mind. 

Drawing his little sword, the hobbit readied himself for battle. This, he could not, would not allow. 

He waited until the orc had positioned itself over Thorin, then let go of the branch entirely. 

The trusty little sword went right into the orc’s neck, and a bit of it stuck out on the other end. Blood seeped from the wound, onto Thorin. 

“Foolish burglar”, Thorin croaked. “Now we both die.”

Bilbo smiled apologetically, as he pulled the dead orc to the side, away from Thorin. He regretted nothing. At least the wargs would just kill them, nothing worse. 

When he was lifted into the air, he first thought he had died. After a while, he realized that he was entirely too uncomfortable to be dead. And if he was not much mistaken, the talons around his chest belonged to an eagle. Not the kind of bird he would have imagined to bring him to the afterlife. 

Looking around, he saw several giant eagles, each carrying at least one dwarf. 

The only remaining question was: Had the eagles saved them, or were they to be dinner? 

He didn’t have to wait long for that question to be answered. The eagles dropped them unceremoniously on a rock, and left. So there was that. 

Bilbo got up and, out of habit, patted some dust off his clothes. He found his sword lying next to him, however it had come there, and sheathed it. Looking around, he saw Fíli and Kíli help Thorin get off an eagle’s back. 

He watched as Óin hurried towards Thorin and knelt beside the wounded dwarf. Oh, how he longed to go there and help, or maybe just hold Thorin’s hand ... not that Thorin would appreciate that. No, certainly not. 

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Bilbo turned his head. To his surprise, the one standing beside him was Bifur. The dwarf gestured to his head, where the axe was embedded, and towards Thorin. 

“You think he will be alright? Because you survived the axe?”

Bifur nodded and smiled. 

And indeed, some time later, Thorin was able to walk, with Fíli’s and Kíli’s help. 

He – no, she – stumbled towards Bilbo. 

“Ah.” Bilbo smiled nervously. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be worse. Listen, Bilbo, when I said you could not be relied on ...”

Well. Thorin had been right. He had not been very useful, all in all. The eagles would have saved them anyway, and ...

“I was wrong.”

Bilbo blinked. Had Thorin really said that?

“Um. Thank you?” He tried not to look too pleased with himself.


	14. Chapter 14

They found a nice spot nearby, grass and heather and foxberries. Gandalf managed to make fire, and they sat down for a much-needed rest. 

Bilbo stared into the fire, trying to sort the thoughts in his head. “If I may ask, just how many of you are women? Not that I intend to tell anyone – I just thought it might be useful to know. You know, in case you are wounded, you may want another woman to tend to your wounds.”

“Well, actually ...” began Balin. 

“All of us”, Kíli said. 

“All of ... oh dear!” Well, that explained a lot. “Gandalf?”

“No worries my dear Bilbo, I am still male.” The wizard chuckled. “Though I had to convince Thorin that, as a wizard, I am not at all loyal to male dwarves. Or men, at that.”

Bilbo’s head was spinning. “But ... but ... why?”

“See, lad”, Dwalin said “It is obviously safer if everyone believes us to be male.”

“Not that.” That was actually quite sensible, considering what that orc had been planning to do to Thorin. The thought still made Bilbo’s blood boil. “Why didn’t you take any actual males with you?”

Dori raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you listen to the wizard?” 

“Um ... no? I mean ... why ...?”

“The point of this quest”, said Thorin. “Is to get Erebor back.”

“Yes, I think you told me about that.”

“We want a home. A real home. Where we are safe. Thus, no males.”

Bilbo stared at Thorin, horrified as it dawned on him what, exactly, Thorin’s reason to be wary of males was. “Oh dear!” He looked from one dwarf to another. “That is ... I wouldn’t have thought ... the axe in Bifur’s head was wielded by a dwarf, wasn’t it?”

“Aye”, said Bofur. “Her husband. Nasty piece of work, he.”

“Her husband?!”

“Aye. Who else?”

“But ... but ... that is wrong!” Husband and wife should love each other! That was the normal state of things! Bilbo hadn’t even known he held that opinion, because it was just such a matter of course. 

“Oh, aye. Didn’t stop him.”

Bilbo blinked. “I was told that there are very few dwarf women. Only one for three males, or such. How then does such a ... such a ... disreputable coward ever find a wife?” Even with the axe in his ... her head, Bifur didn’t seem stupid. Certainly she would not have chosen such a husband if there were others to be found?

Óin shrugged. “The question you need to ask, lad, is: _Why_ is it that there are so few dwarf women?”

It took Bilbo a moment to understand the implications. When he did, all went black. 

When he came to himself, Ori was fanning his face with a piece of cloth, and Óin was holding a piece of wild thyme under his nose. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Boggins?”, asked Kíli. 

“Baggins”, Bilbo corrected weakly. “And yes, I do think so. It is just ... did you just tell me ...?”

“Oh, it is not that all dwarf males attack us with axes”, Nori explained. “Death in childbirth is a common cause of death, too.”

“Mother died giving birth to the much awaited male heir”, Fíli said quietly. 

“Don’t you have midwives?” Death in childbirth was rare in the Shire. Not entirely unheard of, but rare enough that he could recall no one in Hobbiton who had died of it. 

“We do. In fact, I am one”, Óin explained. “Dís’ husband wouldn’t let me near her, though. Accused me of killing babies.”

“Why would he think that? Midwives are there to make sure babies _survive_!”

“Well.” Óin cleared her throat. “His accusations were not entirely unfounded. Had I had my way, Dís would not have gotten pregnant again after Kíli. Her body was clearly not able to make it through another birth. Whenever she got pregnant, I gave her herbs ... just not this one time ...”

Bilbo had read about that in a book once. It was advised to use some herbs on pregnant women only if a woman’s life was at risk, as they would harm the growing new life. “But she wanted another child?”

“Her _husband_ wanted another child.”

“Excuse me”, Bilbo said quietly. “Would you all put your fingers in your ears? I think I have to scream.”

And he did. He screamed until he was hoarse. Then hit the ground with his hands until they hurt. “I don’t want to live in this world anymore”, he said to no one in particular. 

“See”, Kíli said. “That is exactly what our quest is about.”


	15. Chapter 15

Night had fallen, and they were still sitting around the campfire, exhausted but too excited to sleep. 

“So”, Bilbo asked. “You want to settle in Erebor permanently?”

“Aye” said Bofur, and everyone else nodded. 

“Don’t you have relatives you miss, back home?”

Glances were exchanged. Bombur sighed. “I left my children”, she admitted quietly. “Bifur needs me more.”

Glóin nodded. “Me, I only have a son. Thorin didn’t want any males on the quest originally, but I think I would have tried to take him with me, if his father had not taken him on the hunting trip I used to get away. Here.” Glóin unfastened her necklace, and handed Bilbo a locket. “The young one is my lad, Gimli.”

Bilbo opened the locket and looked at the pictures inside. It was obvious which one was Gimli, although he was amazed at how little difference there was between male and female dwarves. “He looks very much like you.”

Glóin smiled. “He is a good lad, my Gimli. I just hope his father will treat him right. He was so sensitive when he was younger ... recently he has acted more like my husband, but I think he is just trying to fit in.” 

“I hope he is alright.” Bilbo handed the locket back. “None of you miss your husbands?”

“A bit”, Bombur admitted. “He is not too bad, and I trust he will be good to the little ones. As I said ...” He looked at Bifur, who smiled. 

Fíli shrugged. “I admit I sometimes miss my father, but then I remember what he did to us... it is difficult. Anyway, we decided it is just not worth it, to live with males. They do more harm than good at the end of the day.”

All too understandable. “I will do what I can to help you achieve your dream.” Knowing Thorin safe would be a small comfort, at least. That she would never return his feelings was obvious by now.  
Knowing a woman, or even knowing of a woman, who had her husband’s axe embedded in her forehead, would turn anyone off marriage. Not to forget poor Dís ... it was not the usual kind of horrible murder people gossiped about when such news came from Bree, but in some ways, maybe it was worse. 

 

Reasoning that, if they all were women, there was no more or less appropriate place to put his bedroll, Bilbo claimed the free space next to Thorin.   
He was already half asleep when he heard her whisper. “Thanks for killing that orc.”  
“You are welcome.” Somehow, that didn’t seem enough. “Very welcome indeed. I could not let him do that to you.”  
“I would have coped”, Thorin replied quietly. “Would not have been the first time. But thank you anyway.”


	16. Chapter 16

As Thorin was too hurt to travel far, there was much time for conversation in the following days. Bilbo learned the stories of most of the dwarves. Bofur and Bombur were on the quest mostly because of Bifur, who, due to some strange dwarven custom, was still considered the property of her husband, even after what he had done to her.  
Dori was recently widowed, with no chance of remarriage due to her infertility, and had been looking for a way to provide for her unmarried sisters Nori and especially the young Ori. 

Dwalin had one of the most interesting stories, having actually been a soldier, until she was found out and had to go into hiding. “The differences are much more obvious to dwarves”, she explained. “I shaved my head, because almost no woman would willingly do that, and got into a human army for awhile. Things went pretty well until a male dwarf joined. The bald head threw him off the track for a while, but eventually, he figured it out.”

“So you are the only one with any actual battle experience?”

“Not anymore, by now. But I was, aye.”

“You know, I thought Thorin was named Oakenshield after some feat in battle. However ...”

“Ah, aye. That would be the time when her brother in law tried to attack Kíli. Thorin used the oaken kitchen table as defense. Not an actual battle maybe, but good enough. It was then that she decided she had had enough, and if we had to fight our own menfolk, we could as well fight a dragon.”

 

One morning, Gandalf sat down at the campfire, lit his pipe, and blew some smoke rings before announcing: “I have a decision for you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“A decision? For me to make?” Thorin raised her head, but didn’t get up. The wounds still slowed her down some, and Bilbo had noticed she didn’t move more than absolutely necessary. 

“Indeed. I could get you safe shelter, food and drink, and, last but not least, the opportunity to wash yourselves and your clothes.”

“But?”

“The friend of mine, at whose house we would be staying, is male.”

“I knew there would be a downside. If he has separate rooms for us, though ...”

“He has not. His house has only one room. However, conveniently, he does not spend the nights there. You would only have to endure his company by day.”

“And what is he? Dwarf? Man? I do not think there are hobbits here.”

Gandalf made some more smoke rings. “He appears to be a rather tall man. And he is a loner, you will not have to worry about him betraying your quest to anyone.”

“Was there any danger of that with the elves?”, Bilbo asked. “I mean, are they friends with your menfolk? They don’t seem to see dwarves often.”

“Our menfolk are very distrustful against them, but Elrond is a friend of all people, and I am sure he noticed that the map was not, well, actually mine.”

Bilbo nodded. “I thought so. You said it was a family heirloom ... not originally passed on to you, I take it?” In that case it was not real theft. Just as Lobelia’s spoon stealing wasn’t. After all, they were family. 

“Quite so. It was given by our father to Dís’ husband when they married. I did not ask whether he wanted me to have it when I took it with me.”

“Your decision?” Gandalf looked at Thorin expectantly. 

“You were right about Mister Baggins, and I admit Elrond did help us, so ... alright. We shall go visit that friend of yours.”

Gandalf nodded. “You will not be disappointed.”

Bilbo smiled to himself. It might not mean much to Thorin, but he was quite pleased to hear her acknowledge that, quite unlike the dwarf males, he did more good than harm on their quest. 

They started late, and around noon, were sitting under some pines for another extended rest. While Óin was tending to Thorin’s wounds, Bilbo shared a smoke with Gandalf. 

“Just between the two of us”, Gandalf said after passing the pipe to Bilbo “There is another obstacle to our stay at Beorn’s house, albeit a minor one.”

“Is there?” Bilbo blew a smoke ring, though not half as nice as those Gandalf could produce. “And which would that be?”

“He is not fond of dwarves. You see, the last time he had dwarves in his house, they threw with food.”

“How wasteful!” Any hobbit over the age of three knew better than that, and it was rather unlikely that Beorn had fostered a bunch of dwarf toddlers. “And quite bad manners, too.”

“Indeed”, Gandalf agreed. “So, you see, we will have to help him get used to the idea, slowly.”

Bilbo nodded. “I should imagine, once he sees them, he will change his opinion. They are quite well behaved. Except Thorin.”

Gandalf chuckled. “I was actually planning to take Thorin to his house first. She is wounded, and he will take pity on her. He will see the need for her to have her kin nearby, and, of course, a healer.”

“Shouldn’t you tell her? She has been through enough, as have the others.” Bilbo passed the pipe to Gandalf. “It is for her to decide whether she wants to deal with someone who dislikes her.”

“She needs a roof over her head and proper food to heal. You know how stubborn she is.”

And how he did! “She is not stupid. She will likely decide it is worth it. Just ... you remember how angry she was at you for not telling that I am male.”

“Ah, that.” Gandalf made a smoke ring that somewhat resembled a flower. “You see, I thought she would understand that you are just perfect the moment she saw you.”

“Why? It is not as if I look particularly impressive.”

“Oh, you do, my dear Bilbo. Remember, those dwarves have suffered a lot of violence from their menfolk. Your behaviour, which is quite beyond reproach, as you are certainly aware, is quite a stark contrast to that. Add to that your looks – you remember what Thorin said when she first saw you?”

“That I look like a greengrocer.” He didn’t mind the mistake, after all he was very fond of his garden and vegetables. “She seemed to like that.”

“Of course. After all, what good would a burglar be who looks like a burglar? I thought she would immediately notice that you are the perfect decoy, but it took some explaining on my part.”

“Decoy?”

“Yes. I hope you will not feel insulted when I point out that, if someone suspected one of the company were not as male as they claimed to be, it would be you they would suspect first.”

“I do not see how”, Bilbo replied. “Maybe with men, as only their males seem to grow beards. But elves never have beards, and apparently, all dwarves grow them, so ...”

“Your good manners, dear Bilbo, and immaculately groomed appearance.”

He frowned. “I do not see how that has anything to do with my sex.”

Gandalf passed the pipe to him. “For dwarves, those are markers of the female sex.”

“Really?” How weird! “So, they like their males dirty and with bad manners?” That made no sense at all! He really needed a whiff of good tobacco to stomach that. 

“They don’t. Marriage is usually decided on by the male relatives.What the women like or don’t like is largely unimportant.”

The pipe fell out of Bilbo’s mouth. “No! That is nonsensical!” Sure, relatives would complain, some very vocal, if a match was not to their tastes, but in the end, it was the couple who had to live with each other. 

“The company will agree with you on that.”

“Though that does explain why Dwalin adressed me as ‘Miss Baggins’.”

Gandalf chuckled. 

“And it also explains why those dwarves Beorn met were so rude. Must have been males. Very silly, as if good manners weren’t something everyone needs! But that solves the problem, does it not?”

“How so?”

“Well, we just have to tell him that those are female dwarves, who do have good man-“ Or not. Thorin would not allow that. 

“You understand the conondrum.”


	17. Bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As some people asked: I have always been of the opinion that shapechangers don't have animal senses in human form, because the senses are due to the physical body. Anyway, if it suits you better, you can assume that Beorn knows the dwarves are female, and just doesn't care. Like, at all. 
> 
> This chapter will contain nudity. And strange Hobbit beauty ideals. Because I can.

To Bilbo’s relief, Gandalf decided to tell Thorin about Beorn’s dislike for dwarves. He wouldn’t have liked to risk the wizard’s ire by telling Thorin regardless. 

“I cannot claim to be too fond of dwarves myself”, Thorin replied drily. “So, no complaints on my side. He will have to see for himself that there are two different kinds of dwarves – and I leave it to him to draw his conclusions, or not.”

It was late afternoon when they saw Beorn’s house, and high time that Thorin got some rest, though she would never have admitted that. Her nieces were unwilling to let go of her, and indeed, the few steps she took on her own obviously cost her a lot of strength.   
Gandalf took her arm, supporting her with his elbow. Bilbo stepped closer. “May I?”  
She nodded, and Bilbo slung her other arm around his shoulders. Likely, this would be the only opportunity he got to be so close to her, and he reveled in it as they made their way to the garden – a very nice one, at that! – and past the beehives. When they reached the door, Bilbo had already formed a favourable opinion of Beorn. 

Gandalf’s plan worked flawlessly. Beorn was a goodnatured fellow who would not turn a wounded person away, and so ended up agreeing to let all the dwarves stay. 

Beorn placed big bowls of food on the table – peas and beans, bread and salads – and told them to only take what they planned to eat, with only a hint of warning in his voice. “And no, you will not get any meat. All animals you see here are my pets and you are not to touch them.” 

“Oh!” Ori drew her hand back, blushing as she looked at the mouse she had been feeding cheese. “Sorry!”

The mouse looked at Beorn, and Bilbo could have sworn its tiny whiskers twitched accusingly. 

“Except for feeding them. Or petting them.” Beorn smiled gently at Ori, and the dwarf relaxed somewhat. 

As Gandalf had predicted, Beorn took his leave at nightfall, telling them to keep the door locked until dawn.

“Strange fellow, this Beorn”, Thorin muttered. “But a rather decent one I have to admit.”

“Very decent indeed. Did you notice the hives? He keeps bees. Good, neighbourly thing to do, that.” 

“Why? They sting.”

“They ensure a good harvest. Very important animals, bees.” Though it did need some courage to keep them, Bilbo had to admit. 

“Really? I did not know that. How do they do it?”

Bilbo was delighted to explain to Thorin, at length, the importance of bees in gardening. And she listened very attentive, too, even though it must be a topic not very interesting to dwarves. 

There were no beds in Beorn’s house, but enough straw to comfortably sleep in. 

In the morning, Bilbo woke to the sight of a bee. He watched it lazily for some time. There was something decidedly strange with it, though he was not sure what. Only after some time did he notice that it was farther away than he had thought – it just was this big. 

“There must be giant blossoms in the garden”, he mumbled to himself. 

He sat up very careful not to startle the bee. Beorn was back in the house and busy preparing breakfast. When Bilbo offered to help, he was told to make tea. Yes, Bilbo decided, he liked that Beorn fellow very well. 

Thorin thanked him very nicely for the cup of tea he brought to her makeshift bed, and even though there was lack of regular meals, Bilbo found himself in quite a good mood at afternoon, as he was granted free access to the pantry. 

He announced that he would be off to the river to wash – he had not had the opportunity to properly clean himself of orc blood – grabbed his piece of soap and a linen towel that had miraculously survived the goblin cave, and made his way to the river. 

It was quite the lovely spot, well within the safety of Beorn’s garden as signified by a low stone wall, with some ponies grazing nearby. 

“Mr. Baggins?”

He turned around, only mildly surprised. “What is it, Bofur?”

“I, um ...” The dwarf rubbed her hands. “I would like to ask you a question. That might offend you.”

Bilbo smiled. He had noticed a slight tendency of Bofur’s to put her foot in her mouth, but never in a way that would have been really offensive. “Alright, ask away.”

“Thing is, I, um, have never seen a naked male, and ... I thought maybe ... could I ... watch?”

“Oh!” Bilbo blinked. Now that was unexpected. “Didn’t you see me in Rivendell?”

“I didn’t look.” Bofur stared at the ground. “Not really ... you know, since you didn’t know we’re all female and ...”

And now she wanted to ... oh dear! He knew, of course, that walking around naked in in female company was highly improper for an adult male, but that was because the ladies might be offended ... what to do if a woman asked, he had no idea. He had been brought up to always consider a politely made request, so it might be proper to ...

“I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have ...”

“No, it’s alright”, he heard himself say. “I just ... you know, don’t want ... Thorin seems to finally trust me, and if she were to hear that I did something inappropriate ... What do dwarves think of this kind of thing?”

“Oh, my reputation would be forever ruined”, Bofur replied cheerfully. 

“But in that case ...”

“No worries. Our reputation is already ruined, actually. I just thought I’d make it worth it.”

“Why would your reputation be ruined?” he asked, unbuttoning his waistcoat. Except for Thorin’s accusation, which, in the light of his new knowledge had been rather understandable, the dwarves had behaved quite respectably. 

“Let me count my crimes ... running away without a male guardian, for one. Sleeping in the wilderness. Even worse, sharing rooms with males to whom we are neither related nor married.”

“That sounds rather silly. No offense meant.” He looked at his waistcoat, and, deciding it needed to be washed anyway, let it fall on the ground. “I mean, it is not as if anyone did anything inappropriate. And about that running away business, well, I did not know dwarves frowned on adventures as much as hobbits do.” 

“It is rather silly”, Bofur agreed. “Um. So, what about my question?”

“As we already ruined our reputations ... I suppose it is alright.” He did feel flattered by the request, if a bit nervous. “Just ... what will Thorin think?”

“There’s no harm in it, is there? Besides, you can always just claim I didn’t ask for permission.”

Indeed, there was no harm. Bofur had made a polite request, and he had said yes, and Thorin could not claim that was him misbehaving, surely?

He took off his shirt and glanced at Bofur. She had blushed a bit, but was still looking. 

“I suppose you would not know, but how much difference is there between dwarf females and males, actually? Glóin’s son looks so much like her, I really wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.”

“Well, males tend to have sparser hair, on their heads, I mean. It is not always the case ... really, I couldn’t say. One just sees the difference. Mostly it is about hairdo and clothes, and behaviour.”

“Ah, yes.” After another glance at Bofur, he began to unbutton his trousers. “Gandalf mentioned something like good manners being a marker of female sex in dwarves.”

“Oh.” Bofur chuckled. “No dwarf would say it like this ... no male dwarf, anyway, but aye, I guess that is so.”

“Do you find good manners unattractive in a male, then?” He had no experience with courting himself, but he did occasionally hear the young lasses gossip about who had the most admirable round belly, and suspected that a male whose belly looked more like a woman’s would be considered unattractive. 

He looked down on his own sorry excuse for a belly. One could even see traces of muscles!

“No, not at all!” Bofur blushed bright pink. 

“That is ... good to know?” It was, actually, very flattering. Just what he needed to boost his self-esteem right now. He pulled down his trousers and stepped into the river. 

Bofur sat down at the riverbank. “You are ... nice”, she continued. “And very pretty.”

“You think so?” Now he blushed, too. “I would not have thought ... I mean, dwarves look very different, I suppose.” Much hairier, for one. 

“Aye ... you do have nice hair, though. Not where one would expect it, but ...” She gestured towards her feet, which he only now noticed were bare. They looked strangely naked.

“Thank you! Foot hair is very important.”

“Just like beard hair for us?” Bofur stood up. 

“No idea how important it is, but yes, I suppose that may be the case.”

“Would you mind if I bathe, too?”

To his mild surprise, he didn’t. In fact, he was rather curious himself. It was, of course, highly inappropriate. Probably. But she had asked. So it should be alright. “No, no, not at all.”

He reached for the soap and scrubbed his head thoroughly. That damned orc blood really had its ways of getting stuck in the most inconvenient places. And this was a thought a respectable hobbit really shouldn’t have – thinking about orcs at all was bad, but to scrub their blood off so casually!

Splashing noises alerted him to the fact that Bofur had joined him in the river. 

“Soap?”, he offered. 

“Thank you!”

In that very moment, the soap slipped from his hand, and he, without thinking, tried to catch it. Slipped himself. 

Suddenly, he felt himself pressed to a warm, wet body. 

“Careful there. Thorin would hate me if I let something happen to her burglar”

He blinked, staring at the stones in the clear water. The river was rather shallow, he might have cracked his head on the rocks. “That would have been a silly way to die.” Especially after all the things he had survived. 

“Aye.” 

When she let go of him, holding his shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall again, he finally realized what had happened.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? You didn’t fall on purpose, did you?”

“No, I just ... don’t think ... this is appropriate.”

“Aye, figures.” She withdrew her hands and he heard splashing noises. “You are always so neat and proper. It is me who should apologize.”

“No, no, not at all. I could have died if you hadn’t been there.”

“I startled you.”

“It was all an accident”, he conceded, slowly turning around. Bofur was indeed very hairy. There was the beard. And the chest hair. And the hair on her rather flat stomach. Below that was ... another beard, he would almost have thought. A lot more than the few honey-coloured curls he had there, anyway. 

Remembering his manners, he looked back at her face. “You are very handsome”, he said shyly. It just seemed right, after her many compliments, to acknowledge that. Even though the whole situation was highly improper. 

“Oh, thank you!” She blushed a bit. “If you ... if you ever change your opinion with regard to touching ... tell me, will you?”

“I ...” he closed his mouth. Opened it again. “I will.”

He finished washing in silence, and even found the soap stuck between two rocks. The whole affair made him feel awful. Bofur was really nice. And handsome. And that offer of hers was rather tempting. Still, even to be pressed to her naked body was nothing like what he had felt when Thorin had allowed him to sling her arm around his shoulders to help her walk. And having seen one naked dwarf made him wonder what Thorin looked like ... and he really should not think about that right now, because it would lead to embarrassing situations.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he sure knows where his towel is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware this is getting increasingly chaotic. And I should maybe add a tag for Bofur/Bilbo? Bear with me, gentle readers, there shall be fluffy romance ... somewhen.

After his body was clean, Bilbo scrubbed his clothes on the rocks at the riverbank, and put them back on as wet as they were. “Don’t drown!” he advised Bofur before he left, which was met with cheerful laughter. 

When he arrived back at the house, Beorn looked him over. “You look half-drowned. Don’t you have dry clothes?”

“I, um, thought I’d sit by the fire to dry them? If it is all the same to you?” The problem with there only being one room was that he could not change clothes inside. Bofur might appreciate the sight, but Thorin most certainly would not. 

Beorn hummed his agreement and returned to the task he was presently occupied with, some repair or the other on the roof, if Bilbo was not mistaken. 

“Sit here”, Thorin ordered and gestured to the place next to her, by the fire. “Ori, fetch my cloak, will you? We cannot have our burglar catch a cold.”

He felt warmer than ever before, sitting in front of the fire, Thorin’s cloak wrapped around him. “Do you still have the shirt you wore when that orc attacked you?” She wore another one, now, under the still damaged tunic. 

“Aye. Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you would give it to me, I could mend it. That is, if I haven’t lost my sewing kit.”

Eyebrows were raised, and there was a brief moment of discomfort, but eventually, Thorin’s expression melted into a smile. “That would be very kind of you.”

Miraculously he still had his sewing kit, and someone had washed the dried blood out of Thorin’s shirt, so he could work with it. 

He was happily busy mending the shirt, when suddenly, Thorin asked “Did you happen to see Bofur on your way back?”

Bilbo stung himself on the needle and put the injured finger in his mouth, which bought him some few moments. “Ouch. Yes, I have seen her, why?”

“She said she wanted to go for a walk. Immediately after you had left. I thought maybe she planned to spy on you.”

“Why would she do such a thing?” Oh dear! Thorin would find out! He couldn’t lie to her, and then what?

“She did seem rather curious when we bathed in Rivendell ...”

“She has never been married”, Bombur explained, sitting down next to them. “Never had her dreams crushed by reality, so to speak. Don’t blame her for a bit of youthful curiosity, Thorin.”

“Is she too young for marriage?”, Bilbo asked, now really uncomfortable. Discerning the dwarves’ ages was very difficult. If he had known ...

“No. She’s lucky, her hips are too narrow and she’s too slender altogether. The offers made for her were all below what father deemed acceptable, so she got away. Don’t mention that to her, she’s a bit insecure about it.”

“I never considered ...” Thorin frowned. “What if she runs away and throws herself at the feet of the next available male? Shows him how to get into the mountain? Can we trust her?”

“Oh please!” Bombur huffed. “She is not like that. Besides, your nieces are also virgins.”

“They know full well that they would not have been such any longer had they remained with their father.”

Bilbo blinked. “Because he would have forced them to marry the next available male?” From what he knew now, guessing the worst thing would probably correct. 

“Yeah. Something like that”, Thorin murmured. “What I am saying is, they are not as naive. We should strip the next orc we kill, and give Bofur an anatomy lesson.”

“Don’t you think she’ll be more interested in what a male dwarf looks like?” He, for one, did not want to know what a male OR female orc looked like under the loincloth, thank you very much. 

“We cannot kill a male dwarf for her education”, Thorin pointed out. “Much as I might want that. Besides, the point is not to satisfy her curiosity, but to make her realize that males are ugly brutes. What better to show her that than an orc?”

Judging from how Bofur had reacted to seeing him naked, it was probably too late for that, now. Bilbo stared at the shirt he was mending to hide his blush. 

The ensuing silence was broken only when Bofur entered the house. “Thanks for borrowing me that towel”, she shouted, and threw it towards him. 

Bombur caught it and placed it close to the fire to dry. 

“Are you warm enough?”, Thorin asked. “Your clothes are still wet.”

Bilbo smiled. “Yes, thank you.”

“You can have my other shirt, you know? The elves washed it.”

“Thank you, but it is quite unnecessary. I have another clean shirt myself. Just didn’t want to ... you know, since the house has only one room ...”

“We can all turn our backs to give you some privacy.”

“Actually, why not go to the garden? There’s enough trees there”, Bombur suggested. “You need to get your wound looked over anyway, Thorin. I’ll accompany Mr. Baggins to the back side of the house, and make sure no one walks in on him while he changes.”

Thorin nodded. “Alright.”

 

When they were out of the house, Bombur said quietly “She didn’t mean it, you know?”

“Who?”

“Thorin. What she says about males being ugly brutes ... alright, she does mean it, but she doesn’t mean you.”

“Oh, that.” He had not even thought about feeling offended. From her point of view, it was a rather sensible conclusion, and of course, she was not talking about him. “I thought as much. She was very kind to me, giving me her cloak and all. Would not make sense if she actually thought me a brute.” 

“She does care for you a great deal”, Bombur confirmed. “I just thought you were a tad bit miffed, you didn’t say anything.”

Oh. Now, lying to Bombur was a bit easier than lying to Thorin, but still, he would rather not. “I just wondered, you know, you all saw me naked, didn’t you?”

“Nah, didn’t really look, would have been rude. Bofur didn’t either, actually. Thorin is just a bit overanxious.”

He could not let that stand. “She is correct in her observations in most cases, actually. Do you want me to stay away from Bofur? Thorin told me to stay away from her nieces, and I do ... try at least. It is difficult, as they don’t seem to have gotten the same advice.”

“Heh, no. Just as long as she doesn’t get hurt, I don’t care how often you are alone with her. Our reputations were ruined the moment we stepped out of doors in the middle of the night, and embarked on this quest.”

They had arrived at a sheltered space between two heaps of firewood, and Bombur turned her back towards him. 

“It is a honourable endeavour, certainly?” Bilbo inquired while he changed clothes. “Why would your reputations be ruined?” It just made no darn sense! “I mean, having adventures is just something we don’t do in the Shire, but that is because we are quite comfortable there. I would figure that returning home, however late, would be considered a respectable thing to do.”

“If we actually were male, no doubt we would be honoured and praised for trying to reclaim our home. Thing is, female dwarves traveling on their own, it is just not ... it would be assumed that we lost our virtue, so to speak.”

“I hope you don’t feel too bad about that.” Closing the buttons of his waistcoat, he thought of home, and what his neighbours would think of him. To his own surprise, he didn’t feel very worried about it. They would gossip, of course, but that was worth it. 

“Just a bit. I miss my little ones. Thorin is right, though, this quest is our only chance at real happiness.”

Bilbo hummed in agreement. From what they had told him about their males, it was highly unlikely that just telling them to behave decently would help – that would require them to know what common decency was in the first place. “I don’t suppose a way could be found to take your children to Erebor? The female ones, at least?”

“You would have to be a master burglar to get into my husband’s house, and out again, with my little ones in tow. But thank you. I like to hope.”

“You are welcome. It is hard for me to imagine you living there without children. A home is not complete without them, as one says.”

“Do you have children, Mr. Baggins? I thought you were unmarried.”

“Indeed. I am considered very odd by my neighbours, and, occasionally, myself, due to this. Actually, before you lot happened along, I was planning to adopt.”

“Oh! I did not know ... so one of your family deceased recently?”

“What? No, no. It is not quite so urgent.” He walked around Bombur. “All children in the Shire are well taken care of. It is just that it can get very crowded in a family home, and I have Bag End all for myself. Can get a bit lonely there. I thought I could ask one of the more bookish and quiet children to live with me – give them some escape from the noise in their parents’ home.”

They went back to the house, and Bilbo waited outside, until Bombur told him that Thorin was clothed again. 

For dinner, Thorin even sat at the table, and Bilbo was pleased to see that her wounds healed so well. The rest had done her good, apparently, there was more colour in her face, and she ate more than the previous evening.


	19. Chapter 19

Bilbo didn’t sleep well that night. As he had done nothing particularly tiring during the day, his thoughts kept him awake. Again and again he looked at Thorin, saw her stir in her sleep. He remembered all too well her words. ‘It would not have been the first time.’ Who had done this to her? At least Bombur and Glóin had children from husbands they had not chosen themselves, and he knew what that meant. Had to mean. Still, everyone agreed that Thorin had suffered worst, though none would volunteer details.   
Would she find peace in Erebor? His chest ached when he thought of the very real danger that they might not make it there alive. And then ... if they made it, he could do nothing more to help her. Not even cook for her. Not that he didn’t understand why she wanted no males in her new home. He understood very well. Still, he wished an exception could be made for a little hobbit. The tall folks called them halflings, so, really, he was only half there at all. He could be invisible and just see to it that Thorin got six decent meals a day. What he would have given to see her heal, and, most importantly, see her smile!

 

Morning came, and during breakfast, Thorin was even more quiet than usual. Had the exertion of sitting at the table the day before exhausted her so? But she sat again, seemingly well healed.   
After breakfast, Bilbo sought out an audience with Óin, and inquired after Thorin’s state, in secret, for he feared Thorin would claim to be better than she was.   
The healer assured him that all was well, and the wounds were all healing nicely, even the one gash on the upper body that had brought Thorin to her knees in the battle with the orc. 

Bilbo could not be really happy. Something was on Thorin’s mind. 

It was around noon, and Bilbo was walking aimlessly through the gardens, when he heard Fíli and Kíli talk to each other. 

“Thorin is insufferable today”, Kíli complained. “Asked me if I remember the point of our quest! Really!”

“It’s not about you”, Fíli replied. “I heard rumours that she has accused Bofur of not being really serious about the quest, and now she has to question us young ones, too, if she doesn’t want to seem prejudiced.”

“Still”, Kíli grumbled. “As if I would ever!”

“I don’t know.” Fíli sighed. “I do remember the stories mother told us. That one about the princess who engineers her marriage to the one her heart truly desires? It was beautiful. Now, of course I am way too sensible to run away with a male to achieve that, and you sure are, too, but ... I can understand she is worried.”

Bilbo cleared his throat, loudly. They probably didn’t want him to listen, even though they were talking in the common tongue – he had noticed that the younger dwarves hardly ever spoke dwarvish. 

“Oh, Mr. Boggins!”

He was beginning to suspect Kíli did it on purpose to annoy him. So he didn’t correct her that time. “I overheard your conversation, I am afraid. So this is what weighs on your aunt’s mind?”

“Shush, Thorin is our uncle”, Fíli reminded him, with a wink. “Yes, that is it. And, really, I am a bit worried about Bofur, too ... she is far more curious than any of us ... save perhaps Ori.”

“You are not worried about Ori, then?” Well, that was a relief. They really had enough to worry about. 

“She’s not interested in males. Never saw her look at anything other than a book. Or perhaps Dwalin, but that would be because the tattoos contain writing.” 

“Bofur would not do anything to endanger the quest, certainly?”

“Not on purpose.” Fíli shrugged. “It’s just, I wouldn’t put it past her to get interested in some random male, and that could lead to trouble. She’s way too optimistic and trusting, even though she’s way past marriageable age.”

“Past it? Is that even possible?” Sure, it was unusual for hobbits past a certain age to marry if they had not already, but to have an official limit? And Bofur’s hair wasn’t grey, even. 

“Yes. She could be married, but not get married anymore. No one would offer for her, you see? Doesn’t mean she’s safe, of course. I’m sure some men in Laketown would still like to have their way with her ...”

Bilbo blinked. That sounded awfully like an implication ...

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you are so sensitive.”

He huffed. “Anyone should be. It saddens me that you seem to accept such behaviour as normal.”

Fíli nodded. “Me too, me too.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a (not very graphic) sex scene. Just in case you want to skip it.

Bilbo was seated on a bench, smoking his pipe and admiring Beorn’s giant sunflowers, when he saw Bofur walk towards him. She seemed upset. 

“Good afternoon”, he said and patted the bench next to him, inviting her to sit. 

She silently accepted the offer. “They are talking behind my back”, she finally said. 

“Do they?” Of course they did. And in a way, they were right. He _was_ the next available male. Not that he would do anything to harm the quest ... and he couldn’t blame Bofur. It must be hard to renounce all hope to have a family, ever, even if it was for her sister’s wellbeing. Add to that the insecurities Bombur had mentioned ... quite silly, really, Bofur was a quite handsome dwarf, at least in his opinion. 

“Aye. Hard to keep that secret. Just because I’m not as brooding as Thorin is no reason to doubt my sincerity. I see that axe in Bifur’s head every day!”

“Of course.” He put his pipe out and set it aside. “Thorin has been especially grumpy today, I take it?” Just because Thorin had good reason didn’t mean it was easy to endure. 

“You bet.”

“Would it lighten your mood if I, er, took you on that offer you made yesterday? At the river?” 

She stared. Then smiled, that infectious smile of hers. “Oh. Oh yes, it would. Considerably. But you really don’t have to, just to cheer me up.”

He smoothed the fabric of his clothes. “Oh, no, that is not it. I just – well, I cannot say I am not a bit curious myself. You know, me being a confirmed bachelor and all. Though I am afraid I have not the first idea what to, um, do, that is.” 

“No worries!” Bofur grinned. “I know what I like. And we can find out what you like. We will just have to find a good place.”

“Behind the house?” he suggested. His hands were trembling a bit. This was by far the most improper thing he had ever done. Still, the memory of how her naked body had felt against his was still fresh in his mind, and made him blush a bit.

“Aye!”

As he found himself seated next to her, shielded from view by the heaps of firewood, he felt his body react to the imminent actions.

She fumbled with the laces of her trouser, but eventually managed to pull them down just enough. “Now ...” She took his hand. “Wanna touch?”

He had to dig through quite an amount of hair to find the parts below. “Oh!”

“Don’t like it?”

“I ... I am just surprised.” He blushed. “You know, I always wondered where the babies come out ...” There was no hole there. Not even a small one. It did feel like there could be an opening there ... rather like a closed mouth, though. 

“Me, too.” She grinned. “Isn’t nearly big enough, is it? They say it stretches.” Covering his hand with hers, she showed him how she liked to be touched, and soon he forgot his initial anxiety. 

He had forgotten all about it at the point where Bofur gave a satisfied sigh, and turned towards him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, you show me.”

Watching her pleasure had affected him enough so that he could not get out of his trousers fast enough for his liking.  
At first, her fingers seemed a bit clumsy on his flesh, but that soon gave way to rather nimble movements. Must be, he thought dizzily, because she was so good at working with her hands in general. 

After some experimenting, she pulled him onto her lap for easier access, and he felt his legs part around one of hers. The sensation was strange, but not unwelcome, and he didn’t last long after that. 

“We must do that again, soon”, she said when he sank into her arms, still a bit dizzy from the experience. 

“That would be nice”, he agreed. 

 

They made it back to the house unnoticed, and even though Bofur’s wide grin might give them away, Bilbo was not overly worried about that, as it was rather normal for her to be in a good mood. 

He himself was not as cheerful. His mind was busy with drawing conclusions from his new knowledge.  
Before, he had not known what rape actually meant. Now, he had some idea of how painful it must be, in addition to the violation of privacy. It made his heart ache to think that many of his dear new friends – as he considered Thorin’s company – had been subjected to that. 

Deep in his thoughts as he was, Beorn actually had to remind him of eating, much to the amusement of the dwarves. Even Gandalf chuckled a bit, and Bilbo could not but suspect that the wizard knew about his recent actions. 

As was his wont, Beorn left at nightfall, and everyone else settled down to sleep. 

Somewhen around midnight, Bilbo awoke from a nightmare. He only recalled blurry details, but there had been blood and a big, gashing wound, only this time not on Thorin’s upper body. 

His heartbeat only calmed when he could see her, huddled in her corner at the glowing embers of the fireplace, an almost smile on her face. She was beautiful, in her own way, that was nothing like the prettyness of hobbits, or even Bofur’s ever smiling face. A sad beauty it was, like that of a gnarly tree plagued by storms, and Bilbo desperately wished that the storms in her life could come to an end.


	21. Chapter 21

_Bilbo was in his bed. The sun had just risen, and he thought about getting up. Or maybe sleeping a little bit longer?_

_The bedroom door opened and Thorin came in.As she walked towards the bed, he became aware that he was naked, and there was no blanket._

_Hazily aware that it must be a dream, he spread his arms and legs, body aflame with need. The next moment, Thorin was on him with her full weight, and he wrapped his arms and legs around her._

_She smiled._

 

Bilbo heard a noise. Opening his eyes he found the familiar sight of Thorin’s boots before his eyes. He blushed. Had he ... no, it had been a dream. After all, he was not in Bag End anymore. And, of course, Thorin would never ... 

Confusion turned into embarrassment as he realized that the arousal caused by his dream was still very much present. 

He closed his eyes, pretending to be still asleep, so that he could keep his cloak wrapped around him. 

Why tonight? Shouldn’t he have dreamt about Bofur, if at all? 

When he dared open his eyes, he saw Thorin still standing next to him. 

“Bilbo?”, she whispered. 

His heart beat so loud in his chest he was sure she would hear it. “Yes?”

“Is there a problem? You were very quiet at dinner yesterday. You would tell me of anything that worries you, would you not?”

It warmed him from within to hear those words. “Oh, no, I am quite alright. And of course I would tell you ... thing is, I just, you know, was a bit concerned because you were in such a bad mood.” There. Not entirely a lie. 

“Was I?”

“Kíli complained about it. Are your wounds healing well?”

“Yes, they are, thank you.” Thorin frowned. “That is what affects my mood. We should continue our journey, as I am now fit to travel again. Next, though, we must cross through Mirkwood.”

“Sounds like a scary place.”

“It is.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are inaccuracies, it has been some time since I watched the movie. Anyway ... we all saw the movie, so a change in events is more surprising anyway, isn't it?

Beorn’s request that they release his ponies before entering Mirkwood, did nothing to easen Bilbo’s fears about it. Especially since he had gotten kind of used to riding.

He gave his pony, Cowslip, a hug and an apple when they parted. 

Mirkwood was not as gloomy as he had thought, it was worse. Among the trees, it looked like twilight even when it was noon, and only got worse nearing evening. That Gandalf vanished again was to be expected, but did not help any. 

If at all possible, Thorin got even broodier and grumpier. She yelled commands more or less all the time, and kept him so close to her side that he had to ask for permission to go to the toilet. Not that he minded walking next to her, but her overprotectiveness was obviously caused by anxiety, and he would rather see her less stressed. 

The first night, Bilbo crawled to Bofur and asked her to hug him, consequences be damned. He was scared.   
In the morning, Thorin was outraged to find him missing from his bedroll, and it took the promise that he would always inform her of any change of location, to calm her down. 

Breakfast was bread and cheese Beorn had provided them with. “The burglar shouldn’t eat so much”, Dori complained. “He carries only half the weight we do.”

“He only weighs half as much as you”, Thorin hissed. “And he’s been eating less than he’s used to all this time. Shut up!”

“Ori doesn’t carry any weapons”, Fíli pointed out. “And she weighs as much as any of us.”

Dwalin elbowed him in the stomach for that, which caused Kíli to attack Dwalin, and hell would have broken loose if Balin had not intervened. They did respect old age enough to not hit her, and when she explained that it was Mirkwood affecting their minds, they actually listened. 

“Alright. Stop complaining. All of you.” Thorin ordered. “Keep in mind that any of you can go for weeks without food. Except, possibly, Mr. Baggins.” She cast him a questioning look. 

“Oh, I am confident I could last a while, but weeks? That seems unlikely.” He had been able to put on some weight during the stay at Beorn’s, but still didn’t sport a proper belly. 

 

Thorin nodded. “We should eat the food as long as it is good. Then, we can cope. No more complaints.”

They tried. Bilbo could clearly see that they were trying their best. There was grumbling, just quiet enough to not be heard by Thorin. Glares and sharp replies. 

When evening came, Bilbo thought he could stand it no longer. He had never noticed before now, but despite Lobelia’s occasional snide remarks, and some rather unflattering gossip, the Shire was, all in all, a peaceful place. Or, at least, Bag End was. This permanent aggressiveness was grating on his nerves. 

And he was still afraid of the darkness in Mirkwood. It was not the peaceful darkness of a normal forest, with singing nightingales, owl noises and maybe some mouses running around, it was a completely silent darkness. 

Worse even, he didn’t dare to ask Thorin for permission to go and cuddle with Bofur. He would have to endure his fear alone. 

“You alright, burglar?”

“I ... I’m scared”, he admitted in a whisper, before realizing that saying that was complaining. 

“We all are”, Thorin replied, extending a hand. “Give me your hand if that helps.”

He gladly complied, and when she had taken his small hand in her big one, he quickly drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face. 

 

The next day around midday, they found an old campfire place. They were delighted to find proof of some kind of civilised life ... before they realized that it was their own campfire.

This new frustration made the tension among the group explode, and now everyone was bickering, and it would be only a matter of time for the first physical fight to start. 

Bilbo was raking his mind for some way to help, but there was only one way out of this terrible situation; they must get out of Mirkwood, and fast. 

“I could”, he suggested quietly to Thorin “climb a tree to see where we are.”

Thorin frowned. “It is dangerous.”

“Everywhere in this blasted forest is dangerous!” he replied exasperated. 

After a while, she conceded: “You might well be safer high up on a tree than down here.” Thorin glared at Nori and Dwalin, who were fighting about food rations again. “Do you have any specific tree in mind?”

“I think that ... this oak here will do.”

Thorin yelled at the company to stop walking, and extended her hands with intertwined fingers. 

“Um. What do you mean by that?”

“Help you climb. Do hobbits not do that?”

“Oh. Of course we do!” Just that he would not have expected her to do it for him. He wiped his foot carefully on some grass before he stepped on her hands. 

His skills in tree climbing were not what they had been, but the practice during the warg attack had helped some, and he found himself making steady progress. Just that the damn tree would not end. Higher and higher up he climbed, until, finally ... sun!

Making sense of what he saw was not easy, but he thought that he could see the Misty Mountains in the direction they were moving to. Which was bad. But did at least mean he had seen something useful. 

When he reached the ground again, he turned around to share his news. Only there was no one there. The dwarves seemed to have left without him. 

He frowned. Having been in the gloomy forest all day, he might have thought they had just left, but now that he had seen the sun again, he felt he had come to his senses a bit. No, certainly Thorin would not leave without him. And the others would have heard her command to stay, and at least ask why ... 

However, the other option was that something happened to them, and Bilbo did not like that one at all. He walked in circles, looking for signs of them. It was the fifth circle and he was slowly losing hope when he found something. The tiny model of Rivendell Bofur had crafted. 

He carefully put it into his pocket and looked around. On first glance, he saw nothing. On second glance, there was a strange kind of white webbing. 

Drawing Sting (as he had named his little sword, inspired by Beorn’s bees), he tiptoed closer. The stuff reminded him of something. Spring Cleaning in the Shire. More precisely ... spider webs. But there was something wrong. Spider webs were much more fragile. 

Some sense of foreboding made Bilbo look upwards. And there it was: A gigantic spider web, with lumps of spider silk. His mother had someday explained to him that spiders cocooned their prey in such silk to keep it fresh for eating. 

The cocoons were very big. As big, actually as ... dwarves. 

Bilbo put on his invisibility ring – he had no idea how good a spider’s sense of smell was – and with grim resolution began to climb the nearest tree. It was not long until he reached the web, and touched the sticky silk to reach the first cocoon. Sting was a rather unfit tool for cutting up a cocoon carefully, but what came to light was the unharmed face of Bifur ... well, unharmed by the sword, at least. 

What was worrying was that Bifur didn’t seem awake. Bilbo tried to shake her awake, but only succeeded in making the dwarf fall to the forest floor. She landed with a thud, no sound of anything breaking, thank goodness. 

He briefly considered climbing down, but then decided that it must wait. There were several other cocoons. Bifur seemed rather sturdy, anyway. 

Next was Bombur, who seemed a bit more aware of her surroundings, but at the very least dizzy. “You have to climb to the others and free them, too”, Bilbo hissed. “They-“

Startled, Bombur moved and fell out of the opening Bilbo had ripped into the cocoon. 

“Oh, darn!” 

He felt something tug on the web, tilted his head to see what it was, and paled. “Oh darnit!” 

A giant spider was approaching, clicking its ... 

Bilbo did not care about spider anatomy. He let himself fall to the forest floor, and was lucky enough to land on Bombur. 

“Ouch!”

So the dwarf was alive, and awake. Bilbo rolled himself away from her, and, to his relief, found that Bifur had sat up and looked around herself dizzily.

Two freed, eleven still imprisoned, and the spider had noticed him. Not good. 

Another spider appeared in his field of view. On the floor. 

He stood, sword in hand, trembling all over. That spider would not harm his dwarves. Only over his cold, dead body. 

Bilbo knew well he was no hero, and would never have claimed he could have saved anybody, had not an arrow out of nowhere killed the spider he was facing. 

“Oh.” He took a look at the arrow. It did look rather elvish, and he gave a sigh of relief.

Deciding to let the elves handle it and not get in the way, he hid behind some blackberry bushes and did nothing. Beautiful and fierce they were upon the spiders, and mere moments after, started cutting open the cocoons. When they had freed all the dwarves, Bilbo started to put together a speech to thank them properly, but that was the moment when they started to tie Bombur’s hands. 

Maybe those elves weren’t so nice after all. He should have known. This forest was evil!

From his hiding place, he saw them tie up one dwarf after the other. A feeling of dread in his stomach told him that, while they apparently intended to let the dwarves live, they might do all kinds of nasty things to them. 

Slowly regaining consciousness, the dwarves saw that there was not use in trying to fight back, and let themselves be bound. The only exception was Glóin, who looked around on the forest floor, even with an elf’s blade at her neck. Her naked neck. 

A fair-haired elf spotted her necklace with the locket on the forest floor, and picked it up. “What is so important about this?”

Ignoring Glóin’s deathly glare, he opened it. Then stared at the picture it contained, with a surprised expression on his face. “I have never seen such an ugly face in my life.”

Glóin glared some more. “That’s my wife.”

Bilbo silently congratulated Glóin on the timely lie. Had she let it slip that it was her husband ... he didn’t dare think of the things the elves might do ... those were not the kind elves of Rivendell. 

“And the slightly less ugly one that looks like you?”

“My son”, Glóin spat out. “And if you insult him any more, I will –“

“I have no intention of further wasting my time, dwarf. Your hands behind your back if you please. You shall get your ‘treasure’ back as soon as you are properly bound.”

The elf was true to his promise, and put the necklace back around Glóin’s neck before they herded the dwarfs into a row and forced them to start walking. 

Bilbo followed, silently, and slipped into the elven castle just before the giant gates closed.


	23. Don't look the gift pony in the mouth

The castle seemed to consist of stairs after stairs, and Bilbo was quite exhausted when they finally reached a door made of wrought iron webs, and pushed the dwarves into the room behind. 

This, Bilbo realized, must be what a prison looked like. They had no use of such a thing in the Shire, but he had heard stories. 

Only when the elves had left he noticed that Thorin was missing. The elves must have brought her someplace else. Had they noticed she was female?

Before he could decide on a course of action, the fair-haired elf returned. Had he noticed Bilbo?

But no, apparently not. He knelt down in front of the prison cell, inclining his head as Bilbo had seen the elves of Rivendell do in greeting. 

“I ask your forgiveness for my discourteous words earlier. They were spoken only to draw the guards’ attention away from my surprise.”

“As if you pointy eared buggers had anything to hide from each other”, Glóin grumbled. 

“Truly, I did not believe I would ever have to, yet now I do”, the elf continued, his voice just as gentle as before. “For I had a premonition when I looked at your locket, and my fellow elves would not have liked it.”

“A premonition?”

“My kind is gifted with the ability to sometimes foresee the future, Master Dwarf. I learnt something about the future of your son. Which is why I now ask his name.”

Glóin furrowed her brow. “You won’t get it. What did you learn? Will he be alright? I suppose he will, or your folks would be happy about it, aye?”

“He will be well.”

“Well? Your people believe that the only good dwarf is a dead dwarf, so that means nothing.”

The elf laughed quietly. “He will be alive and have the use of all his limbs, if that answers your question.”

“But there will be something wrong with him, or you would just bloody tell me what you saw!”

“You will not like it. Let me suggest a deal to you: I will procure the keys to your cell, and give them to you, if you in turn give me your son’s name and allow me to copy his picture.”

“Never!” Glóin glared. “That is ... not unless you tell me the full truth about that premonition of yours.”

“As you wish.” The elf sighed. “I saw that, one day, I shall call your son my dearest friend.”

If Bilbo was shocked, that shock was nothing compared to Glóin’s. “My Gimli friends with an elf? No way!”

“Gimli? So that is his name?” The elf smiled, repeating the name to himself a couple of times. “A beautiful name.”

Glóin’s face softened a bit. “Aye. And a very handsome lad he is.” 

“Will you allow me to copy his image?”

“No.”

“Oh. I see.” The elf stood up, disappointment plain on his fair face. 

“I will allow Ori here to copy it for you. Just give us some parchment and ink. And, of course, the keys.”

“Of course, Master Dwarf. May I inquire your name, also?”

“As soon as you have something useful to trade for it.”

The elf laughed. “My name is Legolas. Take this knowledge as a gift, and token of my goodwill.”

Bilbo stared after him as he left. Well, that was a surprise! But he would not look the gift pony in the mouth. 

Having ascertained that the elf was gone for good, he took off his ring. 

The dwarves stared. “Bilbo?”

He smiled. Finally, he was doing his job!

“The very same. I will find a way to get you out of here. Which will be way easier now that you will get the keys.”

“Don’t trust that elf too much. And you forget they took Thorin away.”

“Of course not! I will not leave without Thorin. You could have traded your name for her location.”

“I will, if you don’t manage to find her.”

“Good.”

Bilbo sneaked through the castle until the cold of the stone floors seeped into his feet. He had almost given up when the red-haired guard captain he had seen earlier, led Thorin right towards Bilbo. 

He pressed into the wall, and hoped they would not step on him. The elf did not, but Thorin’s hair touched Bilbo’s cheek. A shiver went through his body, all the cold forgotten. 

The guard captain led Thorin to the deepest, darkest prison cell in the whole castle – at least Bilbo hoped this one was the darkest – and locked it with a key, to which Bilbo paid close attention.   
Maybe the fair-haired elf could be persuaded to give them that key, too? 

He waited, impatient, until the elf had gone. “Thorin?”

Thorin looked around, confused, and Bilbo realized he had the ring still on. Taking it off, he repeated her name. 

“Bilbo!” She stared at him, then ... smiled at him, for the first time in what felt like forever. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I am working on it. What did the elves do to you?”

Thorin shrugged. “Nothing too bad. Their king questioned me for some time, but I told him nothing. He seems to be after gold, mainly, so I considered telling him just enough so that he lets us go, but I would have to ask the others.” She shook her head. “Foolish elf – by imprisoning me away from the others, he makes things harder for himself.” There was a pause. “They are imprisoned, are they? The elves did not ...?”

“They are”, Bilbo confirmed hastily. “All alive and safe. And Glóin has the means to get the key to their cell.”

“How so? Did one of the guards find out she is ... tell her she is not to do that! Under no circumstances!”

Bilbo could only guess what she assumed. “It is a very odd story, but I don’t believe she’s in danger. One elf guard inquired after her son.”

Thorin furrowed her brow. “Her son? Gimli? But he has never ventured out of the Blue Mountains.”

“You see, I did say it was an odd story. Apparently, elves have the gift of prophecy. And that elf foresaw that he and Gimli will become friends.”

“No!”

“I am afraid, yes”, Bilbo smiled nervously. “You are against it?”

“No ... just surprised.” Thorin shook her head. “This sounds made-up. I hope there is no evil intent behind that ... Glóin did not tell him her lad’s full name, did she?”

“Just that he’s called Gimli. And that by accident. I am not a good judge of character when it comes to elves, maybe, but the elf does seem sincere.”

“Could be a plot to get us killed”, Thorin mumbled. “If we are caught trying to escape ... Does he know you are here?”

“No. I was careful. You see, I found a means to become invisible.” And he put on the ring. 

“Oh! A fine burglar you are, indeed.” Thorin grinned, and Bilbo drank in the sight, committing it to memory. 

“You should try and get the keys without the elf’s assistance.”

“I will. But I think I should find out how we can get out of here. The elf only offered the cell keys, not the ones to the entrance, and if we just walk out of the main gates ...”

“We will be caught again, yes. Take your time – I plan to stay awhile. The elves gave me something to eat, and I hope they will do that for the others, too. We can use this to recover. Time is short, but I think we can afford a day or two.”

“Alright, then. I don’t think I will figure something out that soon, anyway.”

“Come back when you find something new. Actually, come back in any case. I would like you to tell the others about my plan, and tell me of their answer.Especially Balin.”

 

Even though his stomach grumbled a bit, Bilbo felt quite cheerful on the way back to the dwarves’ cell. Thorin thought he was a good burglar! Never mind that he was a gentlehobbit, and had never planned to become a burglar at all. If Thorin wanted a burglar, a burglar he would be. 

His message that Thorin was well was greeted with much relief. The message about her plan of telling the elvenking of their quest, was, surprisingly enough, welcomed. 

“Tell her to let him wait awhile”, Balin advised. “And maybe blurt it out as if on accident, like Glóin did with her lad’s name.”

“That wasn’t an actual accident?”

Glóin smiled. “Course not. You see, a male dwarf would be much too stubborn to willingly cooperate with an elf. We have to keep up appearances. My Gimli needs all the help he can get, and if it is going to come from an elf, well, I am not the one to complain about that.”

Balin nodded sagely. “Besides, he will think it more truthful if he believes it to have been revealed by accident.”


	24. Chapter 24

When Bilbo returned, Thorin wanted to know nothing about Balin’s advice. 

“That can wait”, she waved away his hasty report. “Here.” She took a piece of bread out of her tunic. “Saved that for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His delighted smile quite probably belied his words. 

“Oh yes, I should. Wouldn’t do to have you risk your safety by trying to steal something. Eat up.”

The bread tasted wonderful, though Bilbo suspected that was less due to elvish bakery skills and had more to do with his hunger, and the fact that Thorin had saved it for him. 

When he finally made his report, Thorin nodded along. “Good. I will keep that in mind, in case you cannot come up with something.”

He left to search the castle, but couldn’t find an escape route. All doors were heavily guarded, and there was no way he could sneak thirteen dwarves past them. 

When he grew increasingly tired, Bilbo found some barrels in the wine cellar to doze off behind. 

After waking up, he had no idea how much time had passed. The wine cellar, it turned out, did have a gate, too, albeit one that went out to a river. This gate was not guarded, but made of wrought iron, and securely locked. 

An idea began to form in Bilbo’s mind. 

 

Thorin was still asleep when Bilbo returned, but it was no peaceful sleep. Bilbo watched her throw around for some time, until he heard her talk. “No. No, you will not. No!”

“Thorin? Wake up. It’s me!”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, then relaxed. Her body was still trembling, but on her face, there was a little smile. “I am scared”, she admitted. 

Remembering what she had done for him, Bilbo offered his hand through the iron bars. 

Much to his pleasant surprise, Thorin took it, quickly drifting back to sleep. Her grip slackened, but he left his hand right there and watched her sleep. 

When she woke up the next time, he told her about his idea.

“This is absolutely crazy.” 

“Sorry. I could not think of –“

“We will do it.” She smiled. “At least try. We can use my plan if this one fails. Just – make sure to find a barrel big enough for Bombur.”

Stealing the keys was a piece of cake. They were safely kept away from the prisoners, but Bilbo could easily sneak into the watch room, where apparently all the keys were kept. 

The dwarves happily followed him out of their cell, except for Glóin, who insisted on writing a short letter to the elf guard first. “Nothing about the quest”, she mumbled. 

When they finally were in the cellars, they started complaining, only silenced by Thorin’s glare. 

It worked quite nicely. Bilbo had found a very big barrel for Bombur to hide in, and a small one for himself, in which he would not be shaken around too much. 

Just when he had hidden himself, the elves came in to roll the barrels into the water. They had nearly gotten to the last two barrels with dwarves in them, when they started talking to each other. Bilbo froze. Had they noticed that the barrels were heavier? Oh, if only he head learnt more of the elvish tongue from Lindir!

Another voice called out. Its tone was commanding, and Bilbo guessed that the newly arrived elf gave orders. The workers hurried out of the cellar room, but strangely enough, the barrels kept moving, he could hear another one fall into the water. 

Next was his barrel. “Good journey”, the elf whispered in the common tongue. 

Bilbo was too shocked to answer. Soon afterwards, he heard metal creak, and the barrels started moving more rapidly. 

Despite having chosen a small barrel, Bilbo was shaken quite a bit, and he suspected he would be blue and green all over the next day, when the barrel finally stopped moving as rapidly. 

When he finally dared to stick his head out of the barrel, he could see that the river was very deep here, and moved very slowly. “Are you all alright?”, he shouted. 

“Maybe we should have gone with my plan”, Thorin grumbled. She was wet all over, but still clung to her barrel. “From what I can see everyone is alive.”

And indeed, they were, which was a big weight off Bilbo’s mind. 

Happy, however, they were not. They crawled out of the river, one by one, Bombur needing some help because her barrel stuck to her wet clothes. 

There was lots of complaining, until Balin managed to make fire with some supplies that had been kept in a waterproof container. 

“We lost three days in Mirkwood, but gained some time by traveling by river”, Thorin explained when everyone was seated round the fire. “Walking round the lake will cost us time we don’t have. We need to find some means of getting across the lake, without anyone noticing us.”

“A raft?”, Bilbo suggested. 

“No!” the dwarves responded all at once. 

“We are wet enough as is”, Fíli explained, wringing water out of her braids. 

“Well, suit yourself. I only wanted to help.”

“And your help is very much appreciated”, Thorin said gently. “You may not know, though, that we cannot swim.”

“What? You ... I would never have ...” The risk for his plan had been calculated assuming they were well able to swim!

“I know. That is why I did not tell you before. Swimming is not a skill highly valued among our kind ... and exposing female skin is not done, ever. My mother died wading through a river when we fled from Smaug. The current ...”

Bilbo swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Alright. No risks, then. Maybe there is a kind of ferry?”

They were still wet, although a bit warmer, when they continued their journey. Bilbo wore a second cloak, courtesy of Thorin who had insisted she wasn’t cold. 

Upon arriving at the lakeside, they saw a boat approach. 

“That is perfect!” Ori cried out. “Do we have enough money to pay?”

Thorin shrugged. “Leave the bartering to me. We will see whether our money is enough.”

 

When the boat came closer, they waved and yelled, and the man in there steered toward them. 

He greeted them, and told them to avoid Laketown. “We don’t like your kind there.”

“How much would we have to pay for you to forget your dislike long enough to get us there by boat?”

The man squinted his eyes. “Listen, this is nothing personal. You cannot pay me enough to act against the law.”

“What about ten gold coins?” Thorin suggested. 

“No. My children already lost their mother.”

“In this case, some gold will help you acquire a new wife.”

The bargeman huffed. “There is nothing, I repeat, nothing you can offer me that would even tempt me ... wait. You there, with the golden hair, step forward.”

Despite Thorin’s protests, Fíli did as asked. 

The man looked her over. “Do you have all your teeth?”

“Fíli! You are not going to –”

“Be quiet uncle. It is my decision.” Fíli bared her teeth. 

“No diseases?”

Fíli shook her head, while everyone else stared in disgust. 

“Alright. You’ll do. I’ll make you an offer.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to arranged marriage here. But it's all quite fluffy and harmless, promise! 
> 
> And why is that guy in charge of Laketown called "Master"? (I think he is, read it in several fics). It would make more sense for him to be a mayor ... I hope I named him correctly.

Thorin looked ready to strangle the man, as did Dwalin. The others readied themselves for battle, too, changing their stances and exchanging glances. 

“I take you lot over the lake, and into the town, and from there to wherever you want to be.”

“We will not accept!” Thorin growled. 

“Let him make his offer”, Fíli returned her glare without blinking. “Now, what do you demand?”

“You”, the man pointed at Fíli “Will elope with my eldest daughter, Sigrid.”

“What?!” It was obvious that no one had expected this, though Bilbo seemed to be the only one shocked by how the man decided over his daughter’s life. 

“The Master of Laketown has been ogling her, and no doubt will ask for her hand soon. I have no way of denying him, but if my daughter were to elope with a handsome stranger ... well, that would not be my fault.”

Thorin scowled. “We will discuss it.”

The dwarves put their heads together, and talked to each other in what Bilbo assumed was their native tongue; he was almost out of hearing range. 

“Alright”, Thorin finally said. “We will do it.”

“However”, added Balin. “We want to know more about your motives. Why give your daughter to some dwarf stranger, when you could marry her off to that Master, who seems to be a man of power and wealth?”

Now it was the bargeman’s turn to glare. “Because I love her, is why.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. “She always dreamt of some handsome prince with golden hair to take her away from this miserable life of ours. You are not what I would have wished for, but you will do. Of course I expect you to treat her properly.”

“Is she pretty?”, Fíli asked. 

“The second most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, the man said earnestly. 

“Why only second?”, Kíli wanted to know. 

“Because, Master Dwarf, I have also seen her mother, that’s why.” He smiled sadly. “It will be hard to decide who takes second place when Tilda grows up.”

“We have a deal”, Fíli extended a hand. 

“I want your word that you will elope with Sigrid, and treat her decently. Your kind is known for being true to your word, or I would not even consider this.”

“I swear by my beard that I shall take your daughter with me, if she wishes it so, and that I shall treat her like I would want my own dear sister to be treated.”

Finally satisfied, the man shook Fíli’s hand. 

They climbed on board, and, when introductions were finally made, they learnt that the bargeman was called Bard, and that his relationship with the Master was already strained. “He doesn’t like my influence with the people”, Bard explained. “And he would use my daughter to blackmail me, no doubt. Besides, he is ugly as a pig. Actually, no, that is unjust towards the poor animals.”

His interest in his daughter’s wellbeing earned Bard some level of trust quickly, which was fortunate, as the dwarves would likely not have accepted to have dead fish poured on their heads otherwise. 

Bard’s children were flabbergasted when the dwarves entered their home through the privy hole. 

Last came Fíli, who immediately stared at the girl. “Are you Sigrid?”, she asked after a while. 

“Yes?” She looked a bit uncertain as to whether she should tell him this. 

“Fíli, son of Dís, at your service.” Fíli bowed low, much lower than she had before Bilbo. “I am _delighted_ to make your acquaintance.”

Sigrid blushed a bit. “Me too”, she muttered.


	26. Chapter 26

While the Company discussed with Bard how to get them out of town the next day, Fíli was sitting in the other corner of the house, talking to Sigrid.   
Bilbo frowned. Fíli was getting far too much into this eloping business, for his tastes. Poor Sigrid would be so disappointed when it turned out her handsome hero was actually female. 

When the two finally joined the others, Sigrid turned to her father and said “Fíli asked me to go with him when they leave in the morning. I loathe to leave you, but ...”

“Didn’t you tell her?” Bard interrupted. 

“That our journey is a dangerous one, and I cannot guarantee her safety? Yes, I did. She wants to come along regardless.”

Without any mention of their bargain, Bard told his daughter that he approved of her leaving with the Company, and asked her for ideas on how to get the dwarves safely out of the city. 

“They have to leave before dawn.” Sigrid stated. “I have some clothes that are a well-known sight here, and will disguise them well enough to get past the guards in the outside direction.”

“Wouldn’t it be obvious that it is all your clothes?” Bilbo wanted to know. 

“Oh, no! I have been washing neighbour’s laundry for a while, to make some money. It wouldn’t be stealing, we can leave everything on a meadow fence or the other, where people will find it.”

To Bilbo’s utter astonishment, the plan worked. They walked out of the gates, in groups of two or three, in broad daylight, and the guards said nothing!

Outside, there were green pastures and fields. Sigrid showed them where to leave the clothes, and slowly, they all returned to their normal appearance. 

“Well, that was interesting”, Balin commented as she left her disguise as old human woman on a rock that formed part of a border between fields. 

Her eyes twinkled, and Bilbo understood – she had disguised as a male dwarf, only to then disguise that disguise as human woman. The notion was quite entertaining. 

When they all looked like dwarves again, Thorin nodded at Sigrid. “Can you go and give us some privacy? We need to talk about secret matters.”

Fili rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. She is as trustworthy as any of us.”

“We know nothing about her.”

“Well, then I don’t have to know what you are talking about. Come Sigrid, let’s find a nice spot to sit while they are going about their secret business.”

The girl’s trusting smile near broke Bilbo’s heart. If only he had gotten a moment to talk to Fíli in private!  
Sigrid obediently shouldered the broom she had brought for whatever reason, and followed Fíli. 

“You all know the plan”, Thorin began when she had gathered the Company ( minus Fíli) around her. “But just in case, you should listen while I explain it to our burglar.”

Ah! There was more of a plan than he had previously known, then?

“The plan is thus. You, Bilbo, sneak into the mountain, using the secret door. Then, you find out whether the dragon is alive, and if so, whether it is awake. In case the dragon is awake, we will need a big animal to roast. Kíli, you will hunt down some mountain goats if nothing better is to be found. Balin, do you still have the roots?”

“Aye, lassie.” The old dwarf grinned. 

“We prepare the roasted meat, wait for the dragon to smell it, and get out of the way so it can eat.”

“And then?” Bilbo asked, a bit confused. 

“Why, laddie”, Balin grinned. “Then, the dragon drops dead.”

“That’s the plan”, Bofur confirmed. “You know about Thorin’s emergency meat supply, don’t you?”

“Oh.” They wanted to poison a dragon, of all things? It sounded good, but could it work? “You said you weren’t sure whether the poison works on trolls, even.”

“There is some risk involved”, Thorin agreed. “It did work on the trolls, according to Gandalf, so that would be a point in favour. Remember, you are not involved in that part of the plan. You only have to find out the state of the dragon.”

Bilbo had an inkling that the original plan had been different. “And if it doesn’t eat the meat?”

“As I said, that is not your concern.”

“It darn well is!” He cleared his throat. “Excuse my language, but really, I can’t let you fail now! You may want to, you know, disguise the taste of that poison a bit. I am quite good at covering flavours – we often had rather old meat for dinner during the Fell Winter, and mother taught me how to ...” He noticed he was rambling and sut his mouth. 

“Alright.” Thorin nodded. “You can help prepare the meat. Anything else?”

“Mr. Baggins could bring some of the meat with him when he enters the mountain”, Dori suggested. “I have always found that nothing gives one an appetite like a small taste of food.”

Thorin frowned. “Aye, I suppose that is so, but the danger to Mr. Baggins’ life would be increased if he were to smell like food.”

“I can do that! No problem, really!” This was something that really could increase their chance of success. 

“Are you sure?”

Thorin’s worried gaze warmed him from within. “Yes. Absolutely. Remember what I did in the elves’ dungeon? I can take care of myself.”

She sighed. “Alright. If you insist.”

 

They had three days to prepare. The first day, Kíli had no luck with hunting. “At least I only wasted one arrow”, she said when they were sitting round their campfire in the ruined city. “Could be worse.”

The second day, Sigrid told Fíli she had found a cow. “It’s one of the Mayor’s cows, and he had planned to slaughter it for the next feast. You have been talking about needing meat, and ... “

Fíli smiled. “Splendid! Where is it?”

“I can show you. It has wandered off, so if we are lucky, they will believe it just got lost. Happens sometimes.”

That evening, Bilbo finally managed to get Fíli alone. “What do you think you are doing to that poor girl?”

“Sigrid? I am not harming her in any way.” Fíli seemed genuinely confused. 

“She thinks you are her charming prince, and all that, and when she finds out ...”

“You think she might not like me anymore?” 

“Well. Not exactly. Just that ...”

“Excuse me!”

Bilbo jerked around. Sigrid was right behind him. 

“I am aware that Fíli is no prince, you know? He told me that he’s only royalty through his mother’s line.”

“See? It is all well”, Fíli said. “Now, Sigrid, Thorin allowed me to tell you some more about our quest ...”

Grumbling, Bilbo wandered off. It was no use. The girl would be hurt. 

His aimless wandering was cut short by Bofur. “Worried?”

When he told her of his worries, she just shrugged. “Fíli is as good as any prince. You should be more concerned about yourself, really.”

“Remember how I fainted when you told me about the dragon?”

Bofur grinned. “Aye.”

“I don’t feel as faint-hearted anymore. I will manage.”

“Good to know. But ... just in case we are all going to die soon ... wanna cuddle?”

They did a bit more than just cuddle. It felt so very comfortable with Bofur, friendly and familiar. 

“I do feel like we’re betraying Thorin”, he admitted when he snuggled into Bofur’s arms afterwards. 

“Why? Because she doesn’t know? Maybe we can tell her soon. She’s stressed out from the quest, she’ll be way more reasonable when we succeed. Or if. Anyway.” Bofur kissed his head. “Talking about that, we should return, or she’s going to wonder where her burglar is.”

“I’m not _her_ burglar.” Not that he didn’t want to be ...

“Oh, aye, you are. She’s thrown a fit when you came to me that first night in Mirkwood, don’t you remember?”

“Of course she wants to know my whereabouts. It is safer that way, after all.” Still, he was not hers in any sense of the word. 

“If you say so ...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case someone wonders: No, Bofur is not intentionally stealing Thorin's boyfriend. At this point she only strongly suspects that Thorin is attracted to Bilbo, and she is of the opinion that Thorin ought to _say_ something if she wants Bilbo for herself.


	27. Chapter 27

By the time they all walked up to the secret door, Thorin had somewhat relented, and allowed Fíli to tell Sigrid about the door, and the plan to reclaim the mountain. 

Bilbo thought it rather silly to not tell her about the whole plan. After all, Sigrid had as good a reason as many of the company to want to hide away from males.

In the hour before sunset, Thorin was unbearable. She yelled at everyone, inbetween asking for confirmation that she remembered Elrond’s words correctly. 

And then, sunset came. Thorin could not find the keyhole. 

She looked as if she would throw herself to her death the next moment. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo offered quietly. “I will find a way. I promise. You didn’t hire a burglar for nothing. I will find a way inside.”

She just sighed in response, but did sit down, so the imminent danger of her hurling herself from the cliff seemed past. 

“It is here!”

They jerked around. Sigrid stood at the rock face, pointing out some tiny opening in the rock. 

Fíli had never looked more pleased. 

“Thank you, lass”, Thorin said gruffly as she turned the key in the lock. 

Tension seemed to fall from her shoulders when the door opened. 

“Behold”, she said, and her voice was, once again, at its most beautiful. “Erebor.”

Bilbo made an effort to look properly impressed, but it was mostly stone and dust. He would rather have looked at Thorin some more, for the bliss on her face was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

“Next part of the plan”, he reminded her. “I go inside and find the dragon. I’ll be back in a moment.”

The bliss on her face rapidly vanished. “You do not have to do that, Bilbo. You did enough for us as is.”

“Nonsense. It is the job I signed up for.”

He put on his ring before she could argue more. While he snuck away, he could hear them drag inside the cow they had roasted that afternoon. According to plan, they would re-heat the meat in the forges, and hope that the smell attracted the dragon. 

 

If there was a dragon. 

Bilbo would have preferred the dragon to be dead. 

 

The farther he got into the mountain, the more impressed he was. Finally, he had to admit that it really was an impressive ... house? Or maybe cave. Anyway, the stonemasonry was beautiful. An entirely different style from the architecture of Rivendell, but just as intricate. 

He tiptoed into another corridor – and that was when he saw the gold. There were heaps of it, glimmering in the green light of some kind of mushroom that the dwarves had, apparently, cultivated for that purpose. 

And on the gold, there was the dragon. Bilbo very nearly fainted when he saw it, but did not. He had thought that a dragon would be about as big as a very big horse, but no, it was as big as a small house! 

Trembling, he sneaked closer. 

The dragon raised its head. Sniffed the air. “What is this?” it asked with thundering voice. “Who are you? I will find you, thief.”

“What, thief?” Bilbo took off the ring, as it apparently didn’t help any. “I just came here to eat my supper in peace, I will have you know!”

He took the meat out of his pocket and waved it before the dragon’s nose. 

The dragon sniffed. “Supper? Breakfast. I need breakfast. Give it to me!”

“That is not very polite”, Bilbo pointed out, but threw the meat over to the dragon, who caught it with its open mouth. “Whatever happened to saying ‘please’?”

The dragon growled. 

“And ‘thank you’?”

Bilbo immediately regretted this attempt to teach a dragon manners, as the claw of the dragon nailed him to the floor. “There is more than this tiny morsel. Tell me where the meat is, puny creature, or _you_ will be my breakfast.”

“It is ... in ... in the room with the big fire in it”, he stuttered. “But ...it’s my friends’ dinner! You cannot just take it!”

“I am Smaug the Terrible. I can.”

It let go of Bilbo to walk in the direction of the forges, and Bilbo, though mostly unharmed, could not keep pace. What if the dragon decided it was still hungry after eating the cow? What if something went wrong?

When he arrived, the dragon had indeed eaten the cow, but everything else did not go as planned. The rapidly moving dragon kept them from escaping, and by the look of it, it would be some time before the poison effected the dragon much. At the moment, it was just breathing fire and trying to catch dwarves. 

Halfway toward Thorin, Bilbo met Sigrid, who was carrying some kind of spear. “Distract it”, she mouthed. 

So Bilbo hurried towards the fire-spewing end of the dragon. “Your table manners are horrible!” he yelled. “Really, they aren’t even existent!”

A ray of fire darted towards him. In the last moment, Bilbo was pulled out of the way, and caught in two iron-hard arms. He looked up and met Thorin’s gaze. She glared at him.   
“Have you lost your mind?”

“Sigrid told me to ...”

That very moment, the dragon fell. Just like that. Slumped down, and Sigrid cried for help. 

When Thorin and Bilbo arrived, Dwalin and Dori were already busy freeing Sigrid and Fíli, who had been buried under the dragon’s body. 

“Is it dead?”

Óin walked up to the dragon, looked into its eyes, and performed some other examinations the purpose of which Bilbo could not determine. “Aye. It is dead.”

“So.” Bilbo murmured. “Then it is time for me to leave.” It had been worth it, it really had, but it still hurt to have to leave now. After so many adventures they had gone through together ...

“You are going nowhere.” Thorin’s hand returned to his shoulder. “That is, you stay here until your wound is properly healed.”

“What wou ... oh.” Only now he became aware that one of his ears was burned. He really had now idea how he had not noticed before. 

“Óin! Have a look at him!”

The healer took a short look at Bilbo’s ear. “If you put some cold water on it right now, it may not get so bad.”

One moment later, Bilbo found himself thrown over Thorin’s shoulder, getting a nice view at her back. He could not enjoy it as much as he would have liked to, as he was rapidly bumping up and down. At least the fur of her clothes meant that his uninjured ear was more or less comfortable. 

“Here we are”, Thorin finally said and gently lowered him to the floor. “The coldest water you will ever find.”

Before them was a giant waterfall, surrounded by artful masonry, and some implements for carrying the water to where it was needed. 

Bilbo dipped his head into the waterfall, and indeed it was cold. “Ouch! I’ll freeze!”

“It takes some getting used to.” She placed one of her big hands on his head. “Try again. Tell me when your ear feels cold.”

With her hand sheltering his head from the worst of it, he could put his cheek and ear inside some longer. “Enough!” he finally gasped. “I think a wet cloth will have to do.”

“Some of your handkerchiefs might do the trick”, Thorin agreed. 

Only then did Bilbo notice that she had not lowered him to the floor, but to the enclosure of the pool into which the water fell. The actual floor was much lower. 

He sat down on the wall, careful not to fall into the water, and rummaged in his pocket for a handkerchief. Finally, he found his favourite one with the sunflower embroidery.   
Thorin took it and dipped it into the waterfall, then carefully wrapped it around his burnt ear. “I hope it heals without scars”, she murmured. “Would not do to ruin your pretty ears.”

“You think my ears are pretty?” His heart beat faster, the pain was hardly there anymore. 

“In ... in a way, I guess, they are.” Was she blushing?

No, it couldn’t be. She had never shown any kind of interest in him in ... that way.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There will be words in the dialogue I would not use for the narrative. Thorin is upset and doesn't watch her language. Also, um, general Trigger Warning here. Thorin talks about her past.

_Thorin stepped forward. Her face was level with his, her hips touched the inside of his thighs. A soft moan escaped Bilbo’s throat when she pushed forward, into him. He wrapped his legs around her, welcoming her._

A distant noise startled him awake. Just a dream. Of course. She would never ever want that. Thorin had been very generous in letting him stay. He was, at the moment, sleeping in one of the emtpy homes that were carved into the mountain. Alone for the first time since Mirkwood. 

Well, at least that meant he could satisfy his urges without disturbing anyone. Taking himself in hand, he let his mind wander back to the dream. It made him tremble with desire. 

_She kissed him, and he welcomed her tongue into his mouth, moaning softly. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer as she rocked against him. Suddenly he realised he was naked, felt her clothes rough against his naked skin as she pushed him backwards. Now he hovered over the cold water, held only by her hands, as she pushed herself between his legs._

He climaxed with a stifled moan. Immediately afterwards, he felt dirty. He should not think of her in such a way. She would hate him if she knew. He should have asked Bofur to stay with him ... he should have told Thorin about that. But when she had decreed where he was to spend the night, he had just ... said nothing. 

The distant noise came closer now. Boots on stone floor. He hastily cleaned himself, and put on trousers and waistcoat. Oh, how he missed his nightshirts. And dressing gowns. 

“Bofur?” Her face didn’t look like it was just a courtesy call. “Is something amiss?”

“Thorin”, Bofur gasped. “She is ... she is unwell. Come and see for yourself.”

The large corridors were lighted partly by the mushrooms he had noticed earlier, but also by windows high in the ceiling. They were in such strange angles that he suspeced mirrors were used. 

What he had thought distant noise now became louder and louder. 

When they got to the source of the noise, he saw Thorin wield a giant hammer against a stone statue. She mumbled things in her native tongue while she attacked the statue again and again. 

“She doesn’t listen to any of us. Óin thinks it is an reaction to ... no, Thorin should tell you that herself when she’s ready. Anyway, she’s out of her mind. That statue could fall down onto her without her noticing.”

Now, he became aware of how serious the situation was. “How long has she been doing this? Shouldn’t she tire out eventually?”

“We think she started at dawn. Which means she has hours before she gets tired.”

“You know what?” said Fíli, who had joined them without Bilbo noticing. “I think we need to use the last resort.”

Bilbo had only just opened his mouth to ask what that last resort was, when Fili kicked his shin. 

He gave a high-pitched scream, and eventually managed to only whine quietly. 

“Why ... why’d you do that?”

But he could clearly see why. Thorin had let go of the hammer and was running towards him. “Are you alright?”

His head spun. He had to think quickly now! “I ... I don’t know. Could you lead me to the waterfalls, again, please?”

She breathed deeply. “Yes. Follow me.”

He did not dare ask her why she had attacked the statue, for fear the madness might return, so they walked in silence for a while. It was a much longer way now that he was not carried, or so he thought. 

“I will destroy them all”, Thorin said. “All those statues built on our tears and blood. Tear them down. Grind them to dust. Destroy them!” Her beautiful voice trembled with anger, and it was beautiful still, though it was a fierce and terrible beauty. 

“Why, yes, that is very sensible. My mother inherited some porcelain figurine from her aunt on the paternal side, a very ugly figurine, as it were, and she said something much the same”, Bilbo prattled. “That reminds me, did you know the gardens of Rivendell were designed by Lady Celebrian? I do think she must have been a Lady of very good taste, though of course one can disagree with that ...”

“They were?” Thorin’s voice softened a bit. “Who told you?”

“Oh, some elf”, Bilbo lied, for fear she might harbour a dislike for Lindir. “Must have been a very nice person , the Lady Celebrian.”

“Yes.” Thorin breathed deeply. “She certainly was. I wish I had known her. I wish I had known your mother.”

“Oh yes, I would like that. Mother was a very talented gardener, you know, and she would have shared your interest in poisonous plants.” He prattled on, trying to keep Thorin’s mind on flowers and butterflies, and somewhat suceeding. 

“I must not let my anger get the better of me”, Thorin murmured as she dipped his handkerchief into the cold water again, and again wrapped it around his burnt ear. “It is just so hard ... he raped me, you know? That (she used a curseword he didn’t understand) raped me. My sister’s body was not cold in its grave when he thought he needed some other hole to stick his dick into!” She hit the stone with her fist. 

Bilbo winced. Such foul language he had heretofore only read in dictionaries. “Oh Thorin! I’m so sorry.”

Her voice softened a bit. “Such things never happen in your idyllic Shire, do they?”

“No, the worst thing that happens there is Lobelia stealing my silver spoons. I told you about Lobelia? She never got over the fact that I inherited Bag End, not her, and so, whenever she visits for tea ...”

 

By the time they arrived at the house Thorin had chosen for herself, she had calmed down some, and agreed to go back to bed until Bilbo had fixed breakfast. 

He had found some excellent edible mushrooms growing on a bookshelf in one of the deserted houses, and together with what was left of the bread Bard had given them, and maybe some meat – Kíli had gone hunting – that would make a decent meal. 

Bilbo had just started frying the mushrooms in the smallest pan he could find, when Kíli entered the kitchen, and threw some furry things on the table. “There’s lots of rats in here. No idea what they eat, but we can eat them.”

“Really? I have never ... are they edible?”

“With lots of spices, yes. It’s a shame we poisoned the dragon, it might have been edible too ... would have tasted of tar, likely, though.”

By the time breakfast was ready, Thorin was almost normal again. If you didn’t count her plans to smelt down all the coins in the treasury which had male faces on them, which meant almost all the newer coins. 

Bilbo left it to Balin to argue about the sensibility or lack thereof behind such a scheme, and instead busied himself with cleaning the houses. It proved to be a very fruitful endeavour, proven by the baskets full of mushrooms he gathered. Not what one usually expected of a home, but he wouldn’t turn his nose on it. 

When he was enjoying some mushrooms for luncheon, he heard steps lighter than any of the dwarves’, and shortly after saw Sigrid. 

“Well met, dragonslayer”, he said, for he was in a good mood. 

“Well met.” She giggled. “Don’t call me that!”

“You did slay the dragon, did you not?” He smiled. 

“Technically, Fíli did most of it. I just remembered the tales about the vulnerable spot.”

“Well, that was the main thing, was it not? Brute strength is easy to come by, with dwarves.” It also had really impressed him how she had managed to disguise the weapon as broom. Had fooled him, even though he thought he knew a broom if he saw one. “But if you insist, I won’t use the nickname anymore. Mushrooms?”

“No, thanks. I wanted to talk to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes, to you.” She sat down on one of the chairs he had cleaned. “Thing is, well ... Fíli told me last night ... she’s a she.”

“Good! She should have told you much earlier.”

Sigrid nodded. “I ... I think I was in love with him.”

“And now you are disappointed?” He had known that would happen!

“Not exactly.” The girl blushed. “It’s just ... I’m still in love with ... her.”

Confound it! That was even more complicated. “And how can I help you?” 

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you would ... since you are in love with Thorin ...”

He almost choked on a mushroom. “What?!”

“I won’t tell anyone! I just ... thought you could know ... it is very confusing, falling in love with someone of the same sex ...”

“Yes. Yes it is.” He knew how she was feeling. “How do you know I am in love with Thorin? I mean, why would you think that?” 

“Little things. Like how you look at him. And how delighted you were when he told you to stay.”

“Hum. I guess I cannot deny that I am delighted, yes. Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Thorin.”

“You don’t think he likes you, too?”

If only! Maybe Thorin would like him back, if she was male, and that monster of a brother in law had not raped her, but in that case, she would never have come to the Shire anyway. 

“He did act very fast when Óin said you needed cold water.”

“He does feel responsible for me, you know? He hired me, and we have a contract ...” Only that his part in the contract was done. Maybe Thorin really liked him. As a friend, of course, but her friendship was something he did value highly. 

“In that case, it must be a joy to work for him.”

“It is, sometimes. Sometimes, it is not.”

“You don’t like cleaning?”

“What? Oh, no, I love it. It’s not technically part of my work, as per the contract, you know? Just something I like to do, because, really, how can anyone live in a dirty hom? So ... you haven’t seen in what a foul mood Thorin was in the morning?”

“No?”

“Good for you. It was terrible. That’s what I meant. Not easy to get along with him, sometimes.”

“I guess not. So, can I help you?”

When it was time for dinner, Bilbo and Sigrid had cleaned ten houses. The one where Bilbo lived was now almost as clean as Bag End, and Thorin’s temporary home sparkled. Though that had more to do with the granite it was made of than with Bilbo’s cleaning skills. 

Dinner was mushrooms with rat meat, and although Bilbo would never become tired of eating mushrooms, he suspected the same might not be true for the rat meat.


	29. Chapter 29

The next couple of days went by fast. Bilbo established a routine of cleaning and cooking, and seeing to it that everyone (but especially Thorin) got regular three meals a day, or more, if they would eat them. 

Bofur occasionally visited him at night, and helped him keep his thoughts away from Thorin.

One morning, Bilbo was walking through the halls, humming a little song, when he suddenly heard a noise. A noise he already knew.   
He started running. And indeed, there was Thorin, attacking another statue with her hammer. 

“Thorin? Are you alright?”

She turned and let the hammer fall. “You.” she growled. “You!” She grabbed him by the collar of his waistcoat and lifted him up into the air. “I trusted you! You ugly, beardless little brute! I trusted you and you raped poor Bofur, right unter my nose!”

“What? No!” He struggled in her grip. “She asked me!”

“Ha!” Thorin put her hands round his throat. “Males! All the same! He said I had asked for it, too.” She began to choke him, and only then did Bilbo realize that he was in danger. “Said I asked for it with my ‘seductive voice’ and ‘luscious beard’, that beardless goblin! Should have killed him. Should kill you all.”

“Please”, Bilbo begged with his last breath. “Ask her. She ...”

And then everything went black. 

 

He awoke to the sound of crying. Thorin was crying. Bilbo just wanted to say something comforting, when he remembered what had happened. 

“Oh Bilbo, please, wake up! I never ... please! You cannot be dead! I do not allow it!” She cradled him in her arms! “Please, be alive!”

It hurt so much. Not his throat, more his heart. Thorin distrusted him so much she really thought him capable of ... how could she? Had he not proven himself, over and over? Yet he could not hate her for it. He well remembered what she had been through. She was hurting. 

“Thorin ...”

“Oh, thank Mahal, you are alive!” Her tears dropped on his cheeks. “I should not have done that. I lost control of myself. I ...” She leaned in as if to kiss him, but only brushed his hair with her lips. “I am sorry. It was insanity to think you even strong enough to overpower any of the company.”

He wanted to tell her it didn’t matter, tell her he loved her, that he would always forgive her ... but he felt himself unable to speak. 

Thorin gently lowered him to the floor, propping his back up against a column. “Óin tells me I’m going mad, and she is right. I’ll drink her goldencup weed concoction every morning, I promise!”  
She began to hit her own forehead with her fist, again and again. 

“Can I ask you something?”, he whispered. 

She paused. “Everything!” 

“Without you attacking me?”

“By my beard, I solemnly swear -”

“No, I don’t need an oath. Just your word.”

She nodded. “You have it. Speak.”

“Did Bofur tell you about ... us?”

Thorin raised her hand to hit herself again, but stopped when Bilbo placed his hand on her arm. “Yes ... she did. Tonight. I ... I cannot imagine that she willingly ... it hurts!”

“You feel betrayed?” Oh, how he had dreaded that!

“No, confused. I mean, it is not enjoyable to ... well, lay with a male. If it were anyone else but you, I would be certain it must be mind-addling magic”

Right now, he was very glad to only be a little hobbit, nothing big or threatening, nor magical.   
“Um.” He scanned her features for anything else but confusion, but found nothing. “No offense meant, but, how would you know? I mean, rape is quite a bit different from ...”

She shrugged. “I know the mechanics.”

“We ... we didn’t really do that.” His face heated a bit. “You, um, may want to ask her for details? 

“I will do just that. Would you ... can you walk?”

He stood up. “I’m not hurt much, it appears.”

“I am so sorry –“

“I know. Now, let us walk to the kitchens, and I’ll fix us some proper breakfast.”

Halfway there, they met a very upset Kíli. “Mr. Baggins, please, you must help!”

“What happened?”

Kíli looked at Thorin with big eyes, obviously begging for forgiveness. “I just, somehow, mentioned to Sigrid that taking her with us was part of the deal we had with her father, and ...”

“And now she’s hurt”, Bilbo mumbled. Of course she was. He would have to give Fíli a talking-to. 

“I fear she might do something stupid.”

Like returning to Laketown and the horrid ‘master’. “Where did she go?”

“No idea, but I suppose she wanted to talk to Fíli.”

When they found Sigrid, she was in Fili’s arms, sobbing quietly. Fíli was patting her back. “I wanted to be your prince”, the young dwarf murmured softly. “Give you what I never had. We would have taken you with us anyway, promise.”

“I think we may be intruding on something private here”, Bilbo whispered. 

Thorin and Kíli nodded and the three of them tiptoed away. 

 

“I think”, Bilbo said carefully when they were standing in an empty hallway. “Sigrid might be in love with Fíli.” He didn’t know what their opinions would be on that, so better not be definitive. 

“Oh”, Kíli said. 

Thorin shrugged. “That would be very convenient.”

Bilbo stared at her. “So ... this is a normal thing to happen for dwarves?”

“By no means”, Thorin replied grimly. “Back in Ered Luin, they would be publicly stoned for becoming lovers. But fortunately, we are not there. I do think it very convenient, for the obvious reasons. That is, if Fíli returns her affections.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not completely happy with this chapter. As everyone of my gentle readers likely already knows, women who suffer from PTSD do not tend to become violent. That is merely this story's version of the goldsickness. I also needed some kind of reaction for Thorin when she learnt what Bofur and Bilbo have been doing, and overprotectiveness for Bofur just seemed the most likely.


	30. Chapter 30

It soon became obvious that Fíli did, indeed, have feelings for Sigrid. They were rarely seen without each other, and the human girl seemed happy to live in a mountain full of dwarves. 

There were those who wondered what two females could even do in bed together – never in their presence, though, and Bilbo only overheard by accident – but no one openly complained. Fíli and Sigrid _had_ slain the dragon, and everyone respected _that_. 

Every evening, Bilbo examined his burnt ear. The skin was peeling off, and he feared that, soon, it would have healed completely. Which meant he would have to leave. Really, why couldn’t Thorin have let him walk to the waterfall? The pain would have been worth it ... then, on the other hand, Sigrid was right, it did seem like a token of her affection that she had been in such a hurry.  
And, after all, she could have kicked him out immediately.

Thorin’s decision to smelt the dwarven coins proved a good idea when Bilbo decided he was fed up with rat meat, and wanted something decent to eat. The new coins were plain, without anything pointing to their origin. He would be able to pass them off as hobbit coins. 

The people of Laketown were not very enthusiastic about having to test the unmarked gold coins by biting them, but gold was gold, and Bilbo was able to buy all the bread and eggs, flour and meat, cheese, vegetables and cooking supplies he could carry. 

He soon became aware, though, that he would not be able to carry everything back to the mountain that same day. So he stopped by at Bard’s house. 

The boy opened, and beamed at him. “Oh, Mr. Boggins! Come in!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but did not bother to correct the boy. Must be Kíli’s fault.

“Da’s not here”, the boy explained before Bilbo could ask.

“Still working, I take it?”

“Yes. He says maybe he should have taken the money, but I don’t think he meant it. How’s Sigrid?”

“Very well”, Bilbo assured him. “Where is Tilda?”

The younger girl was out playing, but, upon returning, likewise delighted to hear that her sister was well. 

It was almost sunset when Bard arrived. 

“Is Sigrid safe?” was his first question. 

“Yes. She couldn’t come, of course. I had to sneak past the guards. On the market, I think most people thought me a particularly small man, but I can’t be sure they won’t tell anyone.” Bilbo gestured towards the basket with his purchases. “It turned out to be much too heavy to carry all the way back today. If I may ask for your hospitality once more?”

“Gladly.” Bard grinned. “So, Sigrid is well?”

“Apart from the fact that we are all tired of eating mushrooms and rat meat, yes.”

“Mushrooms and rat meat? Ah. I think I can guess where your company went.”

Bilbo froze. “Don’t tell anyone!”

“And endanger Sigrid? You needn’t worry.”

“I was mostly worried about Thorin”, Bilbo admitted. “I am to tell no one of the details of our quest.”

“It is not hard to guess”, Bard replied. “Of course they would want to get back their old home. So ... it is safe in there now? What do you think, could I see Sigrid if I were to camp in the old ruins for a night?”

“That ... might be possible.”

“Very well. In that case, Tilda and Bain will help you carry your purchases home tomorrow. Or as far out of the town as you want.”

 

Bilbo didn’t have to carry anything on his own. They were not very far from the town when they met Thorin. 

“I never said you could stay away over night”, she said instead of a greeting. 

“Sorry about that. I just couldn’t make it.”

Thorin shrugged, and took the basket out of his hands. “Good morning children. Tell your father his precious treasure is safe.”

They nodded and ran away, and Bilbo could not help but suspect that they were a bit scared. Actually, he, too was a bit scared. 

But today was not one of Thorin’s bad days. She carried the big basket on her head, and let Bilbo carry the small one that Tilda and Bain had left. 

“It is not much”, he apologized. “I just could not carry enough for a decent meal for all of us. But it is going to be nice to eat something different again.”

“Aye”.

When he told Sigrid that her father wanted to visit, she was ecstatic. “We should be able to do something about food”, she said after a date for the visit was settled. “Why don’t you set up some kind of hut or such up in the ruins? We could ask some farmers to deliver food there, and they wouldn’t know where we actually are.”

Bilbo hummed. “That might work. Your father says they all believe you to have run away with a human tinker who traveled through at the time. I should be able to avoid suspicion if we can think of a good cover story.”

 

Luncheon was great. Bilbo did his best with what he had purchased, and everyone got a small plate of real food. 

When, after the meal, Thorin asked to talk to him in private, Bilbo was a bit worried. Actually, that was understating it. Sweat broke out on his hands while they walked through the empty corridors, and when they arrived at a house, one of those Bilbo had not cleaned yet, he was trembling. 

“I lived here with my family”, Thorin said quietly. “Do you want to see it?”

He nodded, and followed her inside. 

It was surprisingly small, considering that they were royalty, but Bilbo didn’t comment on it. Having gone upstairs, Thorin showed him a bedroom, surprisingly clean, except for some mushrooms on the mattress. They looked familiar, that must be where Thorin had gotten those mushrooms for breakfast some time ago. “That was the girl’s bedroom. Dís slept on this side.” 

Bilbo could think of nothing appropriate to say. 

Thorin sighed heavily, and closed the door. “Father had another house for representation purposes, but he never took us girls there.”

“Your relationship with him was not so good?”

“Oh, no, quite the opposite. He was a good father. Let me stay unmarried really long, and then move in with Dís to help take care of Fíli and Kíli.”

Again, he was at a loss for words. 

Downstairs again, Thorin sat down in an old armchair, that seemed to have miraculously survived. “The medicine helps”, she said quietly, “But I still feel like smashing something. It seems like it hurts more every day.”

Bilbo sat down on the footstool belonging to the armchair. “Maybe a foot rub would help?” 

Thorin frowned. “Never heard of that.”

“Well, it is what we do in the Shire when someone is stressed. I could wash your feet in a nice bowl of hot water, and then give them a good rub.”

“That sounds ... nice”, Thorin murmured. “But ... you would actually touch my feet?”

“Yes, why? Is that ... not proper in dwarven society?” Oh dear! Had he put his foot in his mouth?

“Touching someone’s feet is ... just not done. It is considered an insult to even show the soles of your feet to someone.”

“Oh!”

“Do not worry. It does not matter whether you have shoes on or not. And I am ready to adapt to hobbit customs concerning that.” She gave him a little smile. 

“That ... that’s awfully nice of you. So ... I’ll be off to fetch some hot water, yes? Is the bathroom where it always is?” The houses were all very alike, as if someone made up one plan, and then made all the houses the same. Rather boring, but effective.

“Aye.”

Erebor had a very clever system of running water. There were hot wells and cold wells, and the pipes were in top condition. Some people had not properly closed their taps before fleeing, which was one of the causes of the excessive dampness. 

Bilbo was pleased to find a huge silver bowl that was polished clean. Thorin seemed to like it very much by the look of it, as the silver shone as if new.  
He filled that bowl with a lot of hot water, and just enough cold water so it wouldn’t burn, and carefully balanced it down the stairs. 

A part of him felt guilty; he had not told Thorin the whole truth. While washing someone’s feet was perfectly acceptable, and even done for honoured guests, it was something most often done by family for each other.   
And it had come to his mind because he had often seen his father do it for his mother when she came back from one of her small ‘adventures’ with feet that were encrusted in mud. 

Thorin would not want to know about that, though, and she would enjoy a good foot rub. Everyone did. 

 

She smiled when he brought the water, and set down the bowl at her feet. 

“That was my mother’s favourite bowl”, she reminisced as she kicked off her boots. “I wish she could have seen it again.”

“She would want you to have it.”

Thorin nodded. “Aye.” She put her feet into the hot water and sighed, happily, he hoped. 

He knelt down next to the bowl, took the bar of soap he had bought in Laketown out of his pocket, and started to wash her feet. They were beautiful, naked, as dwarven feet usually were, with only the tiniest bit of dark hair on them. Not nearly as dirty as a hobbit’s feet, of course. However, they were in a horrible state. There was pieces of horny skin peeling off, lots of skin flakes, and the nails looked like they might be grown in, a condition he had only read about. “I will have to cut your nails.” 

Thorin nodded. 

Bilbo took out the kitchen knife he had taken to carrying – much more useful than a sword, really – and started. It was a good thing the knife was sharp, for Thorin’s nails were surprisingly strong. 

“You insisted on paying me for your sword, and that knife. Would you care to tell me more about that custom?”

“Well.” He hesitated. Should he really? But by now, she might regard him a friend. “It is believed that giving sharp things as gifts might cut apart the friendship between two people. A symbolic payment is therefore necessary.”

“Friendship.” 

He continued with his task, deciding to not comment. 

“So you did regard me your friend even back then?”

Of course he had! “You saved my life.” 

“As was my duty as the leader of our group. Didn’t you read your contract?”

“And who wrote that contract?”

“Ori.”

Bilbo looked at her. “And who decided what would be put into it?”

“I. Still, you owe me nothing for that.”

“Maybe not, but surviving being captured by trolls together somehow makes one grow on each other, you know? At least that has been the case for me.”

Thorin sighed. “I was very rude, that first couple of days, I am afraid.”

Days? Weeks, more like. “Actually, I am surprised you managed to be in such a good mood with feet like that! Doesn’t that hurt all the time?”

“Just a bit. I had to steal the boots from Dís’ husband. I am lucky they fit so well.”

“You didn’t have your own boots?”

“Nah. Women do not wear boots. Just soft shoes with lots of decoration. Highly impractical for a journey such as ours.”

“I suppose so.” He really could not comment on the topic. “Have you considered going barefoot?”

“The floors are too cold for that. If one is not a hobbit, that is.”

Bilbo nodded, He had not considered that. His own feet did feel a bit cold, but nothing too bad; he could walk in snow without any ill effects. “Maybe Dori could knit something like those soft shoes.”

“Maybe.”

After having washed her feet thoroughly, Bilbo sat on the footstool, put Thorin’s feet onto his lap and started rubbing. He felt perfectly content in this scene of domestic bliss. It was not real, but a nice enough illusion. 

“I have been talking to Bofur.”

Bilbo froze. 

“So, you are in love with her?” Thorin’s voice had a tone of faked casualness about it, the same Lobelia used when she was very curious about something but didn’t want to admit it. 

“Actually no. And I hope, she is not in love with me, either. She took my by surprise, you know, and I just thought, why not, and of course it is not proper to do such things when you aren’t courting, but my parents taught me to always consider a polite request, and Bofur was very polite, and ...”

“What do you feel for her, then?”

“Friendship, I suppose. I do like her a lot.” She had been very nice about it all, even when he cried in her arms – he had only admitted to being unhappily in love with someone, of course, but maybe Bofur had figured out. 

“Bofur requested that you be allowed to stay, you know?”

“What?!” It was very plain in his contract that he would leave immediately on finishing the quest. The section had been carefully abridged after they had learnt he was male, he had noticed that when he had re-read it. 

“She has not told you? Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise. I am a bit conflicted about it. After all, it would set a precedence, and I do not want to be invaded by all the males anyone might want to bring in here.”

“Of course not.”

“On the other hand, your cooking is delicious. We all agree on that.”

He smiled, basking in her praise. “Thank you! I should like to stay. If it doesn’t cause too much problems for you, that is.”

“I need some time to think about it.”

Bilbo nodded. That was understandable. She was right, some might say she was giving Bofur preferential treatment. And with such problems, he was well acquainted. Every birthday meant having to find presents that were of appropriate value, so that no one would be insulted.   
Thorin granting Bofur such a request would mean that next, Fíli and Kíli would demand to also be granted a favour, as they were Thorin’s nieces. And from there on ...

If, on the other hand, Thorin could argue that no one could cook mushrooms better than Bilbo – he was very proud of his skills in that respect, mushrooms were his favourite, and as that ran in the family, he had a lot of recipes – then nobody would have reason to complain, as they all would benefit.


	31. Chapter 31

Some days later, Bilbo was just scrambling eggs for breakfast, Bofur entered the kitchen. 

“I need to talk to you.”

He would almost have added too much salt to the eggs. “Someone ill? In danger?”

“Nah, don’t you worry. It’s more like... well. _You_ are in a bit of danger.”

Bilbo took the pan away from the flame and turned around. “Me? Why would I?”

“Thorin told me what she did to you.”

“But that’s all resolved! We talked about it, and she said she’s taking something against the anger, and nothing really bad happened, anyway.”

Bofur sighed. “Thing is ...” She took off her hat and fiddled around with it. “I volunteered to help Óin with some research of hers. She needed a bit of piss to mix with some mixture, and ... well. According to her, I’m pregnant.”

“What? But ... you ... no one, um, attacked you?” She had been in the mountain all this time. She was safe, that’s why they were here!

“Nah. Must be yours.”

“That is impossible.” His parents had told him no details about hobbit reproduction, but Hamfast Gamgee had been very frank about how you pollinated tomato plants with a small paintbrush for a better harvest. Bilbo was quite sure that the blossom equivalent was _inside_ a woman. 

“Óin says it is possible, though unlikely. I’m not far along, so it will not be obvious anytime soon, and I might lose it anyway, but you should know. Maybe you can find an excuse to leave for a while, return to that lovely home of yours? Just until we know how Thorin reacts ...”

Bilbo blinked. Thorin would not ... but then, she might. She had been so upset that time ... 

 

“Or do you want me to ask Óin for something to end the pregnancy? I ... I would do that, if you really want to, but ...” She laid a hand on her belly as she said it. 

“What? Oh, no! I have no business wanting you to do anything, it is your body, and ... oh!” Suddenly, he remembered the explanations. Why there were so few female dwarves. “Are dwarf births really that dangerous? Maybe, in that case, it is advisable ...”

“That should be alright. Óin is right here, after all. Besides, it could be a bit smaller. How big are hobbit babies usually?”

He showed with his hands. “It has been some time since I last saw one, so don’t rely on that.”

“Och, that would be so cute!” She beamed. “I am really excited, to be honest. Such a sweet, wee thing ... “

“Alright then. I will leave. Should get my things in order, anyway.” He returned to the stove. “How will I know how Thorin reacted?”

“I will send a letter. Or ask one of the others to come fetch you. Or, if Thorin is really angry, she may throw me out ... I would have to move in with you in that case, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear!” He stirred the scrambled eggs hastily. “That is not proper, that. I need to do the honourable thing. Marry you, and all.” 

“Nah, that’d be ridiculous. We’re a bunch of criminals, we are. No one here will care whether we are married. But thank you.”

Bilbo nodded. “In case you come to the Shire, though ... I insist. The neighbours might just about accept a dwarf, but an unmarried couple? That is not proper.”

“Couldn’t you tell them we had gotten married already?”

“Then they would be miffed that they were not invited to the wedding. In fact”, and he turned the egg mass around “That might be the main reason why unmarried couples are not accepted. After all, if that sort of thing became common, we might not have any weddings to attend anymore.”

“And that would be terrible?”

“Of course it would! When I think of that mushroom soup that was served at Elderflower’s wedding ... not to mention the wedding cake ... of course there’s still birthdays, and harvest festival ... but it is a very grim prospect, indeed.”

According to Bofur, a dwarven pregnancy was twelve months. Bilbo made clear he would return after those twelve months if he got no message. “Can’t risk a message getting lost, you know?”

“Aye, I suppose not. Thorin would never forgive me.”

He was sure she would calm down, eventually. “Oh, I’m sure she will. She is very kind, at the times that she cares to show it ...”

“Not if I drive her hobbit away.”

“What do you mean by this?”

“Ach, come on. You noticed that she’s fond of you, didn’t you?”

“Why, yes.” And he was glad, really. “But it is not as if I am, you know ... hers... she hates males.”

“Male dwarves. She hates male dwarves.” Bofur hummed. “And on occasion, maybe some of her anger is misdirected at you, but ... you know, she might be jealous when I tell her of my pregnancy.”

Bilbo huffed. “I am quite sure she has no desire whatsoever to, um, court anyone or, you know, share her bed with a male.”

“She doesn’t?” Bofur grinned. “I could have sworn I saw the two of you hold hands while sleeping that one night in Mirkwood.”

At that, Bilbo’s face heated a bit. “You know very well I did not mean that. We were not in a _bed_. She was just trying to comfort me. Because I was scared.”

“She does enjoy watching you sleep, at the very least.”

It was not as if she had to share his bed to do that. “Well. She can come over and do that anytime she wants.” He clamped his hands over his mouth when he realised what he had said. 

“Splendid! I’ll make sure to tell her!”

“Bofur! No!”

“Just kidding! But you should really ... or maybe not. Wait until she comes to you, that’s likely more sensible.”

“As if”, Bilbo mumbled under his breath. Though it was nice to dream. Would be something to look forward to during his journey back to the Shire. 

 

Thorin was not thrilled when he announced that he intended to leave, if only temporarily, but she understood that he had to look after Bag End. “You will visit sometime?”

“Of course! I do intend to come back to stay, if you would allow me. Maybe send me a letter when you found out what everyone else thinks about it, will you?”

Thorin smiled. “We will miss you. I am sure someone will eventually ask me for permission to leave for the Shire.”

“I would be very pleased if one of you visited for tea.”

After nodding to his words, Thorin sighed. “It is true that invisibility will protect you from the Mirkwood elves, but there’s various other nasty creatures in there. Not to mention hunger and thirst. Precautions need to be taken. Wait here, please.”

She left, and when Bilbo slowly began to wonder where she had gone, she returned, carrying something in her hands. 

“What is this?” It gleamed in the light of the torches they had put up in the more frequently used areas of the mountain. 

“Elvish jewelry.” She held it up for him to look at. A beautiful necklace with shimmering white stones. “Thranduil mentioned that he wants starlight jewels when he questioned me – of course the pointy eared bastard guessed what we were after. I think that is what he wants, it has the look of something that was commissioned by elves. It should suffice as bribe so that he lets you pass through the forest unharmed. Maybe he will even give you something to eat.”

“Bribe?”

Thorin smiled. “Do not worry, I will ask Ori to write a fancy letter, about it being a diplomatic gift, and all that. As soon as word gets to the Iron Mountain dwarves that Smaug is dead, we will be in dire need of allies.Erebor is easy to defend, but we cannot live off rat meat forever.” 

Sounded sensible. “You think the elves would aid you against those dwarves?”

“It is worth the attempt. Would you try and negotiate a treaty for assistance in exchange for gold and jewels? Of course, we will put in a paragraph about it excluding dragons.”

Bilbo smiled nervously. “Oh, I am flattered, but I don’t think I am much of a diplomat ... certainly someone like Balin would be better?”

“Do not underestimate yourself, Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin placed one of her big hands on his shoulder. “You do have a way with words. Besides, Thranduil dislikes dwarves. Hobbits are something else entirely. You managed to charm your way into this company, and we do not like dwarves, either.”

Bilbo looked down to hide his blush. “If you think so”, he murmured, his head spinning. Had he charmed his way into her heart also? Could Bofur be right? But it was no use, when Thorin heard of Bofur’s pregnancy ... 

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how it is ... the chance for Bofur to get pregnant from what they were doing was one million to one. And you know what Sir Pterry wrote about that kind of chance. ;)
> 
> Poor Bilbo seems to be given lots of jobs he has not much idea how to do. Well, up to now, he was doing quite well, wasn't he?


	32. Chapter 32

Before he parted, Bilbo was not only given the necklace, but also a mithril shirt (to keep him safe), some dwarven waybread (to keep him fed) and woolen socks knit by Dori (to keep him warm).   
And several gold coins, just in case he needed to buy something or bribe someone. 

Bard smuggled him over the lake again. Having met Sigrid, clad in some dwarven silk gowns altered to fit her, and wearing a necklace with sapphires, smiling like she had indeed been crowned princess, the man would have done anything for the dwarves.

Following the river to Mirkwood was easy as cake. Only when he entered the wood, Bilbo started to feel hopeless. Somehow, he was now convinced that Thorin would hate him forever. 

He could have sworn, the trees changed positions at night, but at least the river was always there. 

When he saw himself at the pointy end of an elvish arrow, it was with some relief. 

“Put that thing down”, he shouted in his best ‘offended’ voice. “I am the official ambassador from Erebor.”

“Erebor?” The arrow was kept in place. 

“Yes, Erebor. You may have expected a dwarf, but they hired me – probably they knew how discourteously an ambassador would be received.” He huffed. 

Now, the elf lowered her bow, but probably just because she was confident he posed no danger. “Follow me. An audience with the King might be possible.”

Indeed, he was received with much more politeness than had been afforded the dwarves. The elf guard bade him wait in a small chamber where there was a comfy chair. Bilbo had only just succeeded in climbing said chair, when another elf entered and told him that King Thranduil would receive him. 

When they entered the throne room, Bilbo’s courage sank. It was so big and intimidating, and he was just one small hobbit.   
The elven king was a terrible sight, high and mighty on his throne, with no facial expression at all. 

“So you are the ambassador of the Erebor dwarves? If I counted correctly, they are only thirteen. Do they really need an ambassador?”

Bilbo puffed out his chest, and stretched himself to appear as tall as possible. “They are wise enough to start early. Why defer diplomatic relations until they are busy organizing a full-blown kingdom there?”

“I see.” Thranduil tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne, and Bilbo could have sworn he was amused, though it was hard to tell with elves. 

“But I forgot my manners.” He bowed. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

Thranduil nodded graciously, of course not feeling the need to introduce himself. 

“As a token of their goodwill, the dwarves of Erebor send you a gift.” 

Suddenly, Thranduil looked much more attentive. “A gift?”

“Indeed.” Bilbo unwrapped the necklace and held it out for Thranduil to admire. 

“Oh!” The elf’s hand shot forward and took hold of the necklace. “The starlight gems ... a very gracious gift indeed. And what do they want in return?”

“Why, nothing, that’s why it is a gift”, Bilbo pointed out. “However, they do suggest a treaty of mutual military support.” He cleared his throat. “As they know of your dislike for dragons, said treaty excludes any cases of dragon attack.”

“Indeed?”

“Here, read for yourself.” Bilbo handed him the document, which was as fancy as Ori had been able to make it, with some gold here and there, and a seal almost as big as Bilbo’s hand. 

 

Thranduil nodded as he read it. “Exclusion of dragon attack, attack from elves or giant eagles ... what, exactly, are they afraid of?”

Dwarves. But of course, Bilbo could not say that. “I would not know, I am only the ambassador. Maybe they foresee conflicts with the men of Laketown. There is also a treaty for trade relations.” 

 

In the evening, Bilbo felt that he could have done better – his experience with bargaining was all from the weekly market back home – but he could have done worse, too. 

Thranduil deigned to say that he would give the matter some consideration, and also have some guards accompany Bilbo to the borders of Mirkwood. Better than nothing, and it was exactly what Thorin had wanted to achieve in the first place. 

 

After Mirkwood, he traveled towards where he thought Rivendell must be, though the map didn’t help much without someone to explain to him where North is, either by looking at the stars or at where the mossy side of a rock is. 

He had just made camp in a forest which he hoped did not belong to Mirkwood anymore, when a familiar figure appeared in the shine of the campfire. 

“Gandalf!”

“My dear Bilbo! I am glad to see you are well!”

“You cannot claim credit for that.” Bilbo huffed. 

“As I told you, I was busy. And my trust in Thorin and Company was not misplaced, I see.”

Bilbo had to agree. “They were very kind, letting me stay for a while and all that. But there’s a problem.”

“And what would that be?” Gandalf sat down next to him and took his pipe out of the folds of his robe. 

“Don’t tell anyone”, Bilbo requested, and only after the wizard has nodded, he continued. “Bofur is pregnant.”

“Oh?”

“By me, it appears.”

“Thorin will not like that”, Gandalf stated the obvious. 

“Exactly. Bofur thought it better for me to stay out of the way for some time.”

“I see. Well, I am sure, it will all be well. After all, they wanted to found a new community. It would be hard to do that without children.” Gandalf lit his pipe. 

“You don’t understand! Thorin will be furious! And if it is a son ...”

“Certainly, you would take care of the child?”

“Of course I would! That’s not the point!” Bilbo sighed. “It is just ... I cannot ever return, you know? Not if the child is a boy.”

“I am sure a solution can be found.” Gandalf’s optimism was really unnerving now. 

“Oh, sure”, Bilbo huffed. “A solution, sure. One I like? Not likely.”

 

Gandalf accompanied him to Rivendell, and from there, it was a rather easy travel to the Shire. 

Just when Bilbo thought he could get some rest, he saw that Bag End was being auctioned off.


	33. Chapter 33

Thorin was in a bad mood. She suspected that had something to do with Bilbo’s absence. Without him, the mountain seemed to lack life. Of course it did, there were thirteen dwarves here, where once thousands had lived ... but somehow, one little hobbit had cheered the place up more than three more dwarves would have. 

The prospect of seeing him bustle about the kitchen always had given her a reason to get up in the mornings. Now, she only dragged herself out of bed out of a sense of duty. 

She was just sitting at the fire one evening, contemplating the fact that in her living room there was a very noticeable lack of Bilbo, when someone knocked at the door. 

“Come in.”

Bofur entered, hat in her hands, followed by Bifur and Bombur. 

Thorin rose when they bade her goodnight, but Bofur made a gesture asking her to remain seated. “I have to talk to you. This will be easier if you are sitting down while you hear the news.”

Thorin swallowed. Bofur would not be the one chosen to tell her if something had happened to Bilbo ... would she? 

“Thing is, uh, Bilbo told you about the bees and the blossoms, I guess?”

“He did, indeed.” What did that have to do with anything? 

“Good. Then you are aware that the bee goes from the male flower, where it collects pollen, to the female flower, where it leaves a bit of the pollen ...”

“I am. You did not come here to talk about this, did you?” Not that she was averse to discussing botany. In fact, it brought to mind the excited expression on Bilbo’s face when he had explained it. Even so, there was a time and a place for everything. 

“What I, um, wanted to say was that ... I am pregnant.” 

“You are what?!” Thorin noticed that Bombur and Bifur were standing on both sides of her armchair, like guards. Bofur had planned this. She had feared an angry outburst. A reasonable fear, Thorin had to admit, but she would prove herself better than that and hear Bofur out before she ran out to avenge her. 

“Pregnant. As you know, no direct contact, so to speak is necessary for a blossom to bear fruit ... I mean ...”

Leaving her fears out of this, there was one most reasonable conclusion. “Bilbo is the father?”

“Um ... yes?” Bofur played with her hat. “I am sorry.”

“I am not sure how I feel about that.” On one hand, it was nothing new. She had known the two of them were ... involved. A pregnancy, though ... “Apparently you want to give birth, or you would have asked Óin to deal with it. What do you think you will do if the babe is male?”

“Bilbo offered he’d marry me and I could move in with him in that case.”

“Good.” 

“But ... one boy ... I would make sure to raise him right ...”

“Our mothers and foremothers certainly tried the very same with any boy they gave birth to. Has any good ever come from it?” Thorin growled. “Do you think the first dwarf women raised their sons to despise them? To chain their daughters, to kill them without second thought in their ambition for male heirs?”

“No!” Bofur raised her hands as if to block a blow. “Just a thought. One of my sillier ones, maybe. You know I always say what I think!”

“I am aware.” Thorin sighed. Had she become a tyrant? Did Bofur fear her? “We shall deal with that when it happens. So Bilbo knows? Why did he leave, then?”

“I asked him to.” Bofur hesitated. “I mean, you didn’t tell me whether he is allowed to stay, and he should show himself in the Shire before they think him dead. He can be back here in time for the birth. Also, maybe he can ask a hobbit midwife about hobbit pregnancies.”

All this comes out rather hastily, and Thorin is sure there is something Bofur is not telling her. Bofur can lie, but she cannot do it well. 

“You told him to leave lest I attack him again, did you?”

“Um ... that is, as it were, well, maybe ...”

“I do not blame you. I have not shown myself to be trustworthy.”

“What? No, no, you are very trustworthy, indeed! Thing is, we are, um, aware that you can have a nasty temper at times. We know you don’t mean it!”

“However, you do not trust me around Bilbo.And you are right. I would not trust myself.” Her attempt to kill him would forever remain one of her worst memories. Maybe the worst, as this one was the only she was to blame for. “Does he plan to return, ever?”

“Didn’t you listen? Of course he does! As soon as he gets word that you aren’t angry, he’ll come running, for sure.”


	34. Chapter 34

It was not long after Bilbo had managed to steal his silver spoons back from Lobelia, and he was enjoying a pipe, that a tall figure with a pointy hat approached. 

“Gandalf!”

The wizard came closer. “The very same. I bring news from Erebor.” He handed Bilbo a letter. “King Thranduil’s guards brought this to Rivendell.”

 

Of course, Bilbo invited the wizard to stay for tea. It was only after he had departed that Bilbo dared to open the letter. Even though Thorin ripped off no one’s head, she might still not want him to return. 

“Dear Mr. Baggins”, it said. 

“As many months have passed, I trust that you were able to finish your business in the Shire and will be able to return soon. While I would have liked to send you an armed escort, I am aware you will be safer on your own. Do not hesitate to ask for King Thranduil’s assistance should you need it, he has been most civil in his latest letter.   
And do make haste, you certainly do not want to miss the happy event we are looking forward to.

Yours sincerely, 

T. Oakenshield”

 

The happy event ... was that the birth of Bofur’s child? Thorin’s way of telling him that she knew and approved? Of course she would not trust elves with such important facts. Nor, naturally, her feelings for him. That she bade him make haste was the only sign of affection ... still, he could dare hope. 

How could he ever have doubted her? Of course she would not have attacked him. Her regret had been sincere, and never had she laid a hand on him afterwards. 

Bilbo had indeed made preparations. Helleborine Took, a distant relative from his mother’s side, had agree to manage the estate in his absence. She was a very capable young woman, just had turned 33, and was eager to move out of her parents’ overcrowded home.

If Thorin, on behest of everyone else, decided to send him back, there would always be his cosy bedroom in Bag End to return to. 

 

While on the road, his thoughts soon wandered far ahead. He would see all his friends again, and Bofur would hopefully still be well, and when she gave birth ... he had never expected to have a child of his own, one he could watch grow up all the way. Now, he was ecstatic. If only Thorin was as happy with it as her letter made it seem ...

 

Traveling was much easier without a bunch of noisy dwarves. Unhindered by stupid pride or pointless paranoia, Bilbo just asked the elves of Rivendell to escort him safely to Beorn’s house, and from there, one of Beorn’s trusty ponies brought him to Mirkwood, where Bilbo just camped at the edge of the wood until the elves noticed him. 

Easy as pie. One just had to ask for help. 

His second travel through Mirkwood was vastly more enjoyable than the first, and when Bilbo arrived on the other side of the forest, he just wandered along the lakeside. 

Upon arriving at Erebor, he considered picking some flowers – there were lots in bloom – but decided against it. Thorin would not appreciate them, and while Bofur certainly would, Bilbo thought it better not to act like he was courting her. Just in case Thorin was in any way interested ... wouldn’t do to discourage her. 

“Bilbo.” It is as if the mountain itself is calling him, with a deep, rumbling voice. 

He turns around. How could she sneak up to him so easily? But it doesn’t matter. Thorin is here, outside of the mountain, as if ... as if she has been waiting for him! And she is even more majestic than he had remembered her. 

“Let me take that.” 

Thorin relieves him of his burden – knowing that there would be a birth, he packed some books on the matter, so he is traveling less light than last time. 

“You look good”, she remarks after a short silence. “Seems I was right to let you travel alone.”

“Well.” He hates to say it aloud, but she was. Traveling on his own is safer. “Mainly because Thranduil gave me a guest room and something to eat. You seem to have managed to maintain good relations with him.”

“Aye. It was easy, actually. We gave him some shiny jewels, and he keeps quiet. He may not be of much help when the Iron Mountain dwarves figure out that Smaug is dead, but then, we are few enough we could just ask for asylum in his realm.”

“I don’t think I would want to live there.” Too gloomy for his taste. The castle is nice, decorated in greens and browns, just like he likes it, but there are no meadows and only forest. 

“Not the best place to live”, Thorin agrees. “But better than being forced to marry one of the Iron Mountain dwarves ... or worse. I would prefer even Thranduil’s dungeons to that.”

Bilbo nods. “He does give his prisoners very tasty bread.”

Thorin smiles fondly at him. “I hope he gives his guests even better food.”

“Actually, no. It was fresher, but mostly the same as the one you saved for me back then. Couldn’t be better, anyway.” He clears his throat. “So ... everyone wants me to stay?”

“Yes. Glóin demanded that her son also be allowed to live here, in case he turns up and wants to, which is unlikely, so I agreed. The others are fine with it. Bofur is well, but has not grown as much as would be expected.”

“I brought some books.”

As it turns out, everyone is eager to read the books and familiarize themselves with hobbit anatomy. It is hard to wrangle the books from them for Óin to look at. 

“That explains a lot”, she murmurs after reading up on hobbit pregnancies. “I had no idea ... dwarf babies are much larger.”

“What if the child is a boy?” Bilbo inquires nervously. Thorin seems to have taken the news well, but ...

Óin drags him to some secluded part of the library. “Don’t tell Thorin”, she requests. “I found a combination of herbs that should ensure that any child conceived by the one who takes them will be a girl, but I have not yet talked to Thorin. Maybe she will like it, maybe she will be angry that I have been working on this ever since we started on the quest.”

He nods.

“She is a great lass, willing to sacrifice everything for her dream, but most of us ... we just muddle through, so to speak, and all of us have been brought up to expect to have children some day. The only thing of importance we would ever do, we thought. It is hard to act against that.”

“But Thorin can.”

“Thorin can, yes. I admire her for it.”

And so does Bilbo. Everyone in the mountain saves the tastiest bits and pieces of their meals for Bofur, and Thorin is no exception. If she is envious, she doesn’t show it. 

Bofur still works, and assures him the baby is not due for several months to come, but Thorin does assign her the easiest tasks. 

To herself, Thorin shows no mercy. She works hard every day, studying books on blacksmithing, and trying out her newly learnt skills in the forge. 

She has gotten new shoes, at least. Dori was married to a tanner and managed to preserve the dragon’s hide. That is what the new shoes are made of, though they had to hire a shoemaker from Laketown for that. 

Even so, Thorin’s feet are still in a bad condition, so Bilbo has to give her a nice foot rub every evening. Or maybe he just wants to. 

She doesn’t object. 

He does it for Bofur, too, because her feet have grown a bit from the pregnancy and cause discomfort. Poor dwarves – shoes are such a hassle.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting really difficult ... I hope I didn't mess the timelines up with the spinoff story.

When Bofur is round with child, Bilbo decides to go to Mirkwood one last time. He wants to be in Erebor when the child is born, and afterwards, so this is the last chance. Maybe he can get a bit more out of the elf king, a promise to come to their help ... it would be good to have that settled before the birth. 

This time, he is lucky, Bard actually has a shipment of wine barrels to deliver to Mirkwood and a hobbit is not much of an additional burden on the boat. 

Thranduil is amused to see him. He notices, even though the elf works hard to maintain a serious countenance. That’s fine, though. Bilbo has a sense of humour. Just as long as Thranduil thinks him amusing enough to finally sign that confounded contract ...

He manages to make Thranduil admit that he has signed a treaty with the Iron Mountain dwarves, just that he won’t attack them, but that is why he cannot give them military assistance. 

It is something. At least, now he knows why Thranduil was so reluctant. Bilbo has just retired to the guest’s quarters and made himself comfortable, when there is a knock at the door, and a servant leads in a dwarf. A rather strange dwarf, Bilbo finds, what with the lack of beard. 

When the dwarf introduces himself as Gimli, Bilbo almost falls off the sofa. Of course! Glóin’s son! Thorin will not like that at all, but Glóin will be overjoyed. 

Gimli is rather nice, compared to what Bilbo thought male dwarves would be. A bit rough around the edges, maybe, but all in all agreeable. And apparently Legolas, the son of king Thranduil, is his best friend. Which is sure to help diplomatic relations. 

Still, Thorin will not like it. 

When he returns, she hugs him for some wonderful, precious moments before he can even say anything. 

“Gimli is here”, he admits. “You know, Glóin’s son. And he brought that elf, Legolas.”

Thorin groans. “I should have expected this. Of course he would come, after I promised Glóin he could stay ... but why the elf? Why did he bring an elf?”

“For protection, I suppose. I told them you might not be happy ... but the elf is nice, really. Can they stay, please?”

Thorin just looks at him and sighs heavily. “Alright.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” He will make sure to give her an extra nice foot rub tonight. 

Glóin is so happy to have her son back, and the two are just adorable. When, after dinner, Gimli complains that he is assigned guards while Bilbo is not, Bilbo freezes. Thorin was right. He is just too trusting. That male dwarf might just be like the others, and he persuaded Thorin ...  
“He earned it”, she says, and that’s it. Bilbo snuggles up at her feet, so happy he could purr. 

That night, he gives some extra attention to her feet. They start to look somewhat better, but she still shows no signs of wanting to end their daily routine, so, perhaps ...

“The elf is not so bad”, she admits while Bilbo is busy rubbing her feet. “Glóin’s son, on the other hand ... he needs to be taught some manners.”

“I’m sure she will see to that.” He drags it out as long as he can, but in the end, he stops for fear that Thorin might notice he is taking way too long. 

“Would you braid my hair?”, she asks into the silence. “I cannot do much with it myself ...”

“Oh!”

“Only if it is no inconvenience, that is?”

“I would love to!”

Her hair smells of fire and pine needles, an enchanting combination. He combs it more thouroughly than necessary, then braids it for the night, a simple, three-stranded braid. “Will you be able to cope? With three males here?”

“I am getting better”, she says quietly. “And the elf is hardly noticeable at all ... I have gotten used to you, so that leaves only Gimli.”

Maybe ... maybe he can dare to bring her flowers tomorrow.


	36. Chapter 36

His plans are thwarted when he is, in the middle of the night, shaken awake by Bifur, who is talking to him in dwarven language, of which he doesn’t understand a word. 

He can guess, though, so he runs to Bofur’s house in his nightshirt. When he arrives, there is nothing he can do anymore. Bofur is in her bed, child at her breast, and her family and Óin are gathered around her. “What do you say”, asks Óin, “Is the child large enough for a hobbit?”

“Oh, certainly! Why, it is almost a bit big. To small for a dwarf?”

“Tiny!” Bofur chuckles. “She just popped out, and that was it. I thought I just needed the privy, at first!”

“She?” It feels as if a rock the size of Erebor falls off his heart. 

“A beautiful little lassie”, Óin confirms. 

Bilbo rubs his hands. “Splendid. So ... what can I do for you? A drink? Or maybe you would fancy a footrub?”

“Just ... stay here?”

Grateful he sits down on the edge of the bed and watches the baby. His daughter. A smile steals over his face. 

“Bofur? You alright?” Thorin’s voice sounds through the night. 

“Everything alright.”

Thorin walks closer. “Bifur told me you gave birth to a daughter.”

“You want to see her bits?” Bofur grins. “Aye, a daughter. Isn’t it awesome? We won’t die out in one generation!”

“Maybe not.” Thorin shrugs. “One child is not really ...”

Amused, Bilbo watches as Bombur gives Óin a nod, and the healer steps forward. “Maybe now is the time to tell you about my experiments ...” She talks about herbs and female body functions that Bilbo has no idea of, and ends with “... and I could make sure that only girls are born. How does that sound?”

“Good?” Thorin shrugs. “I doubt anyone will want to make that sacrifice, but of course I would not be lacking in gratitude.”

She is talking about getting pregnant, Bilbo realizes. To her, it is a horrible thing she would never ever subject herself to. 

And indeed, she is grateful. If she is at all jealous, she hides it very well. Bilbo is not sure what to make of that. Of course it’s a good thing that she’s not nasty to Bofur, but there is this small part of him that would have enjoyed it if she was a bit jealous.


	37. Chapter 37

It is not until after their visitors have left and Gimli has returned alone, that Bilbo finds the courage to give Thorin the flowers personally.

This time, Bilbo makes sure to pick the sapphire-coloured flowers – some kind of geranium, but none he ever saw before – and the ruby-coloured sage. 

Thorin accepts them with a blush in her cheeks. “Bilbo ... are you courting me?”

Oh dear! He avoids her gaze. “Well ... maybe? Do you hate me now?”

“No ...” She steps forward, puts a hand on his head and ... ruffles his hair. “I never thought ... after what I did to you ...”

“That’s why I waited so long”, he admits. “I was afraid you might get angry ...”

“No. No more.” Thorin carefully puts the flowers into the pitcher with the other ones, and hugs him, lifting him off his feet in the process. “You should not ... I am damaged. I will not ever make you happy.”

“There is no need for that”, he replies, resting his head on her shoulder. “I am perfectly content as is. Just want to make you happy.” And stop lying to her. 

“Oh Bilbo. You are so ... so cute. But you know I do not want to ... you know ... have sex, ever again.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter. Just ... stay my friend? I thought you should know what I feel ... you know ...” 

She lowers him to his feet. “What exactly is it that you feel?”

“Many things. When ... when we sit at the fireside in the evenings, I ... I like to imagine that we are married.” He avoids her gaze, unsure how she will react. “Combing your hair and washing your feet ... all those little things ... my parents did that for each other. It means more to me than the, you know, bedroom things.”

“Married ...” Thorin murmurs. “I do not like the thought of being married. But you are a hobbit. You will never expect me to chain my feet ...”

“Chain? What?” He looks up at her. “Why would you do that?”

“Married women wear two ankle bracelets, chained together ... that is, dwarves do that. You never heard of it?”

“Never”, he shakes his head. Now he knows what those strange golden chains in the treasure are for – he thought they were some sort of interior decoration, or maybe something to show off in front of prisoners. “Why would one put lawful citizens in chains?”

“Because it is pretty.” Thorin shrugs. “The chain allows some movement, but not much ... taking large steps is not ladylike, anyway.”

Bilbo shudders, and Thorin seems to notice, as she puts one of her large hands on his shoulder. “I do not like marriage. But I will gladly remain your friend. Tell me about your parents.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part where Bilbo meets with the elves takes place in chapter 23 of the companion piece, "The Gift of Premonition". I decided to not repeat it here but shorten things a bit, as it is nto strictly speaking part of Bilbo's story.

In the following days, Bilbo does all he can to be a friend to Thorin. And if he spends a bit more time with her than a friend would, or is a bit more excited about being allowed to comb her hair, well, it cannot be helped. 

He is rather content with how things are, when, one day, Kíli comes running. “Dwarf army!”

They all run to the battlements, and Bilbo cannot see it, until it is pointed out to him. “There. That cloud of dust. They come from the Iron Mountains, and there is no one else who would send an army from there.”

Thorin has sometimes talked about that risk, but it still comes as a nasty surprise to him. What are they to do against an army?

He can do nothing but offer to inform the elves. They will not send an army, but maybe enough food so that Thorin can try to keep the mountain. 

What he does not expect is for Thorin to kiss his forehead before he leaves. He tucks away the memory, for later use, then starts running. 

 

When he comes to Erebor again, many things have happened. Among them, King Thranduil has announced that his son is married to one of the dwarves. 

“Who?”, he asks as soon as his breath allows. It is lucky Prince Legolas offered to carry him on his back, as he doesn’t think he could walk anymore. 

The elf is silent. He seems to be very upset about the whole affair. It is terribly unromantic, in Bilbo’s view of things, but dwarves do not seem to be very romantic. Maybe that is why Legolas dislikes it. 

But this are not dwarves, only. Legolas is involved, too. And ... Lindir told him something about elven marriage. 

Bilbo feels himself blush, and is glad the elf carries him on his back, so he cannot see. With the chaperones assigned to the male visitors, there is only one possible answer: It must be Gimli whom Legolas has married, according to elvish custom. That would explain why no one knew about it. 

They are greeted at the secret door by Thorin, who immediately takes Bilbo into her arms. This time, there is no hurry, she does not throw him over her shoulder, but instead carries him all the way to the battlements in her strong arms, pressed to her bosom. 

There are times when he enjoys being so small in comparison to her. This is one of those times. 

 

Gimli seems surprised by his report. So he doesn’t know. It is not Bilbo’s place to tell him. Still, he immediately leaves to talk to Legolas, so maybe he will know soon.

All strangers gone, Thorin kneels down to hug him. “Thank you.”

“Oh, it is nothing, the elves were already on the way, they have seen the army ...”

Thorin doesn’t seem to care. “You are so brave”, she praises, burrowing her nose in his curls. Well. If she says so. He is way too happy to oppose her, even in something as inconsequential as this. 

“It is not one of us to whom Legolas is wedded, is it?” she whispers. “Thranduil did not claim one of us as bride for his son?”

“I am pretty sure it’s Gimli.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut in this chapter. A rather explicit sex scene. If you don't want to read it you can just skip over it, there's not much that happens plot-wise, except cheesy romance. Plot starts again in the next chapter.

Despite his half-hearted protests, Thorin insists on carrying Bilbo everyhwere that day, and he has to use the ring to ‘escape’ and talk to Thranduil.  
After the celebration of their sort-of victory in the evening, Thorin carries him over the threshold of her home. 

Of course she cannot know that is a marriage custom among hobbits. And maybe a house inside a mountain doesn’t really count. Still it makes him even happier than he was before. 

And then, she gently lowers him into her favourite armchair. He has never been so pampered in his adult life!

“Do you want a foot rub?”

He freezes. “You don’t have to!”

Thorin chuckles. “Of course I do not have to. That was not the question.”

“Why, yes, I would like it very much, that is, if you do not feel uneasy about touching someone’s feet ...” After all, considering the soles of feet dirty is rather sensible. They are. That’s why you wash them. Maybe dwarves have had less opportunities to wash in the ancient time, and therefore developed this custom ...

“I have no problem with touching your feet, Bilbo.”

He shivers under the intensity of her gaze. 

She gets washing water, refusing to let him help, and scrubs some soap over his foot hair. “It is so soft”, she says, surprised. “Just like the curls on your head.”

“Ah, well, I pride myself in taking good care of it. Though it is rather inconvenient that, just today, my feet are so very dirty. Had you asked a couple of days ago ...”

“What do you think why I asked today? Your feet are in a sorry state.” 

They are, he must admit. He did not even find the time to clean them properly with the wet cloth that they always have at the door – a bowl of water is used in the Shire, but the dwarves kept stepping into it. 

“No scratches ...” 

Hobbit feet are not very sensitive at the soles. However, the hair on top is quite a different thing. And Thorin runs her fingers through it as if she knows exactly how much he likes it. 

“Your feet are very pretty”, Thorin remarks as she takes said feet in her lap. “Do all hobbits have such cute curls?”

If he were a cat, he would start purring just about now. “Cute, I do not know, but our hair tends to be rather curly, yes.”

“Maybe I found myself the cutest hobbit of the Shire, then.” She starts rubbing, and her calloused fingers feel so very good on the soft skin of his ankles and are strong enough for him to feel even on his soles. 

“Oh, Thorin!” He feels his toes curl in delight. 

“You know, Bofur says you have very clever fingers ...”

He doesn’t think he has ever blushed so much in his life – his face feels as if he could fry eggs on it. 

“Would you, maybe ... if you are not too tired, and, of course, if you want to in the first place, then maybe you would be amenable to ...”

“Everything you want.” Probably she just wants him to braid her hair, but in case she meant something by mentioning Bofur ...

“I told you I have no idea how lying with a male could be pleasant ... show me.”

“I ... I can try?” Bofur knows what she wants, and that makes everything just so much easier. Thorin ... he would not want to hurt her. Never. He has nimble fingers and can be very careful, but still ...

“Do so. I suppose I shall have to undress.”

He squirms in the chair. “You ... er ... could keep the clothes on if that makes you more comfortable. Except the trousers. You would have to, um, open them a bit.”

And suddenly, she stands before him, fumbling with the laces on her trousers. 

“May I?” Even though he trembles, his ‘clever hands’ undo the laces much faster. “Oh ...” He always imagined her to be beautiful, but this ... half covered by dark curls, her sex is still very obvious ... especially with the good view he is getting. And the smell ... a fragrance of ... no, nothing he ever tasted, though there is something sour, faintly reminding of pickled vegetables ... “May I use my mouth?”

“Your lips are as soft as your fingers, are they not?” Thorin places her heavy hands on his shoulders. “I begin to see the appeal in this.”

He doesn’t bother to correct her – she will notice that his lips are much softer. First, he tries a lick, as the glistening liquid on her sex entices him. The taste, much like the smell, is delicious. If he thinks of it as a flower, Thorin’s ... inner petals are longer than he is used to, he can take them between his lips. 

“Oh!” Thorin grasps his hair and pulls him closer, then stills her hands. “Are you alright?”

Unwilling to let go, he just gives her another lick. 

“This is ... I never ...”

She goes silent except for some barely audible gasps, but her hand in his hair shows him well enough where she wants him. Which is exactly where he wants to be. Eating. He likes eating, enjoying taste. It was really a good idea to combine those two things he likes ... no three ... taste, sex, and Thorin. So what if his trousers get a bit tight? He will take care of that later. 

It is not long before she pulls him away. “What ... is this? Magic?”

Ah. The sated look on her face he recognizes well enough, though she has way more self-constraint than Bofur. 

He giggles, unable to stay serious. “I’m sure you could do this to yourself anytime.”

Thorin ruffles his hair. “That remains to be seen ... you ... you are so lovely.”

She kneels down and suddenly her face is so very close. “Kiss me?”

He gladly obliges. This does not solve his too-tight-trousers problem at all. Thorin suddenly caressing his leg also does not.

“I, um, might need a bit of privacy to take care of, well ...”

“I can take care of you.” And just like this, she lifts him into her arms and carries him upstairs. 

“What I was talking about”, he begins anew. “Was that I am, well, rather excited by this, and you certainly do not want to see, I mean ...”

Thorin just lowers him onto a bed – the one he sleeps in when he stays at her house – and towers over him. “You had a hard day. Just tell me what you need.”

He groans with frustration, and just starts to open his trousers. 

It is the wrong thing to do. Thorin freezes. 

“You should go now?”, he suggests timidly. 

Her intense stare does ... things to his body, and he frees his increasingly painful erection. She will flee, anytime now. 

“You will just take that in your hands, will you?”, she asks, with her low, rumbling voice. 

“Yes?”

“I can do that for you.” She lets her hand hover over him, and when he nods, she gently cups his erection in her big, calloused hand. “I never touched one, you know? He just always ... no, you do not want to know. Let me just tell you how cute and sweet and brave you are ... and so delicate ...” Her thumb rubs over the tip of his member, and he cannot hold it any longer, comes apart under her hand. 

“Get some sleep”, she orders, and gently kisses his forehead. “I will clean you.”


	40. Chapter 40

Thorin leaves, and Bilbo hears the sound of water. And it doesn’t stop. Instead, thumping noises are added. Bilbo closes his trousers and gets up – a shame to dirty his newly washed feet, but he has a bad feeling about this. 

The bathroom door is open. Inside is Thorin, hitting the wall, over and over, with her fist. She is bleeding already. 

“Thorin?”

“I cannot ... I just ...” Another smash. “Leave me alone, or I might hurt you.”

It is a warning, not a threat. And he is not afraid. “Please, Thorin. Try to stop hurting yourself”, he pleads softly. “For me.”

She trembles, but does stop, turns around to turn off the water. 

“I thought I could bear it. I cannot. It was my own damn fault. I ...” She raises her hand again.

“Please?”

She hesitates, then lowers her hand to his head. He flinches. 

“Oh Mahal! I did not ...” Thorin withdraws, stumbles a few steps back. “You fear me.” 

“I do not!” He knows she just wanted to ruffle his hair. Really. 

“No need to deny it. You have every reason to.”

“Well, yes, maybe I do”, he murmurs. Part of him might be. “You should still go to bed. Please? I can sing for you, if that helps?”

Thorin looks at him in wonder. “Sing? You never told me you can ...”

“Oh, I am not good at it, by any means, just ... maybe it would help distract you?” She likes playing the harp, and it seems to help ease her pain, so maybe ...

“Yes. That would be very kind of you.”

Her hand still trembles, but she lets him take it and press his lips to her bloodied knuckles. Later, she takes off her outer layer of clothes and her boots and goes to bed. 

Bilbo sits on a beautifully carved wooden chair next to it. 

When he sings, his voice is thin, and seems to drown in the halls of stone, but as he sings of harvest and sunshine, he sees Thorin’s features relax. 

A bit later, tears start rolling down her face, but when he asks whether he should stop, she just shakes her head and her grip on his hand tightens. 

So he sits with her and sings lullabies until she falls asleep.


	41. Chapter 41

When Bilbo wakes up in the morning, sunlight falls in from some small windows in the ceiling. He is in a comfy bed, and ... where is Thorin?

Bilbo looks around, but just when he decides to get up and investigate, Thorin enters the room carrying a tray with mushroom omelette, one of his favourite breakfasts. Or favourite dishes in general. 

“Good morning.” She sets down the tray on the bed. “You fell asleep in the chair last night.”

When he hears that, he wants to get up, but the tray of food on his lap gets in the way. “So sorry! I should have left!”

Thorin sits down in the chair next to the bed. “You were tired. Now eat.”

“Are you alright, though?” She seems to be well, but he remembers the night all too well. Her bloodied knuckles, the distress on her face ...

“Worry about yourself.” Thorin gestures towards the breakfast. There’s also a cup of tea, a bit stronger than he would have made it, but in the best china they have. 

“Um. I am not sick, you know?”

“I know. You are exhausted. Running to Mirkwood and back again.”

“Actually, I only ran there. The elves carried me back.” He reluctantly starts eating. Breakfast in bed is not something he is used to. Now less than back in the Shire. 

Thorin crosses her arms before her breast. “Good.”

He swallows the tea. “Thank you”, he murmurs, unsure what to say. “You ... you really shouldn’t have.”

Thorin’s brow furrows. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No ...” he mumbles. “I just ... just ... something one says when someone is, um, too kind?” 

That only seems to confuse her more. 

“It’s a way of saying thank you”, Bilbo quickly adds. 

“Oh.” Thorin smiles. “You are most welcome.”

He eats silently. When he is finished, Thorin takes the tray away. “About yesterday ...”

“Yes?”

“I am sorry. I overestimated my ability to ... cope.”

“No need to be sorry.” He gets up and walks over to her. “It is alright. We can stay friends?” Friends who occasionally give each other flowers or braid each other’s hair. 

“Thank you.” She pats his shoulder with one hand while the other is holding the tray. “You are not tired anymore?”

“Not anymore, no.” It would be hard to be still tired, after having been given so much rest. “I should get back to work.”

There is enough work for everyone in the mountain. Enough cleaning to do to keep himself busy, even though Thorin ordered everyone to keep him away from the big laundry kettles. Her fear that he might fall in is not unreasonable, he has to admit, and all the equipment is made for dwarves who are much more stronger than him than even their advantage in size would lead to assume. 

One of the things he can do is taking care of Amber. She’s a little sunshine, and still small enough for him to carry around easily. He hopes she’ll stay that way for some time, but with her being half dwarf, it is hard to tell – apparently, dwarf babies are about as big as hobbit toddlers. 

 

Thorin often visits Bilbo when it is his turn to take care of Amber. She likes watching him with the babe. There is something so peaceful and natural about his interactions with Amber, like he is meant to do this. His soft voice is perfectly suited for singing lullabies, and his preference for a warm fire and comfy chair fits well with the needs of a babe. 

When Amber cries, Bilbo always finds out what ails her in mere moments. And he looks so happy. 

Thorin could watch them for hours, but often leaves after a short time, lest she say something stupid. Like offering to bear another child for him to cherish and love. She could not endure it. She is not strong enough. 

 

She needs what strength she has to let him go when he decides to visit Gimli. His absence should give her peace – a home without males, this is what she fought for – but it is not so. 

Instead, her unrest grows from day to day. Bilbo is so small and soft. Anyone, anything could harm him. And she could not bear it were he not to return. 

When, weeks after leaving, he finally returns, Thorin is too relieved to even be annoyed that he brought Gimli. 

“I hope you don’t mind”, Bilbo whispers when she hugs him. “He will not stay for long. He just needs time to think.”

Thorin immediately knows what Gimli needs to think about when he, very proudly, tells her that Legolas wears the circlet “they” gave him all the time. 

Her suspicions are confirmed when he repeats his request for harp lessons, more politely this time. 

Knowing that he is married to the elf makes her feel safer in his presence than she did before. Thorin knows well that the marriage was no hardship for Gimli, yet if he wants harp lessons as his reward, why would she object? 

There is not much talent in him, but he is stubborn enough to keep practising nevertheless. She has some respect for that. 

“You really love your husband, do you not?” she says when, once again, Gimli sighs and tries anew to wrench some pleasing sounds from the harp. 

He blushes. “Just because what I did in the Blue Mountains doesn’t mean ... I don’t ... I know love. This is not it.”

“You like him a lot.”

“Aye ...” 

She would never have said that he loves Legolas before she met Bilbo. The implication that he desires the elf would usually mean that he wants to chain him – and that is not the case, obviously. On the other hand, Bilbo says he loves her, and he does not act like a dwarf would. He acts more like ... he cares. Not like a mother, although some of his concern about Thorin’s wellbeing feels like that, but ... some strange mixture of emotions she never encountered before. To simultaneously think her beautiful and desirable and not wanting to own her ... it is just so strange. 

In a good way.


	42. Chapter 42

Gimli says about himself that he’s not a real smith, but he does have enough practical knowledge to help Thorin out with some of the issues she had figuring out how to do stuff by just reading the books. 

“Your son is not too bad”, she admits when she next talks to Glóin. 

Glóin grins. “ I told you he’s a good lad. It’s good to see him married well.”

“You think he will be faithful?” It would be good to have it confirmed. 

“As I said, he’s a good lad.”

“It was just a marriage of convenience, though. One he was forced into by circumstance.” She herself would not stay faithful in such a marriage. 

“Elves don’t do that. Forcing someone. He and Legolas were very close even before. Thranduil knew what he was doing.”

 

Thorin asks Bilbo last, as she fears it might lead to talking about her own feelings, something she does not feel ready for. “Do you think Gimli will be faithful to his husband?”

Bilbo looks at her with widening eyes. “Why, of course! Legolas would, I don’t know, die or something if he wasn’t.” A small smile appears on Bilbo’s face. “And Gimli knows you would have his head if he tried anything with the girls.”

“I would not feel bound to a marriage into which I was forced.”

“Of course not.” Bilbo hums. “Gimli was not forced. It is not possible, you know?”

“What is not possible?” She got the feeling she had missed a part of this conversation. 

“Well. You know. Forcing him. You see, elf marriage is, basically ...” Bilbo blushes in the most adorable way. 

Suddenly intrigued, Thorin sits down to look him in the eyes. “How does it work?”

“Lindir explained it like this ... it is, um, the act of, so to speak, bodily union, that binds elves together, binds their very souls ... ” Bilbo bites his lip. “And they die if ... if forced. ”

“Oh. Oh!” How can that even work? They’re both male ... but her brain readily supplies a memory from the night after the wedding celebrations ... it would certainly be possible ... but she does not want to imagine it. 

“Yes. Like that.” Bilbo clears his throat. “Gimli does not seem to know, though. He thinks it was just a politically advantageous match. Nevertheless, I do think it is to his liking. Legolas, um, told me that they have not been intimate in that way ... ”

“They have not? But then, are they married?”

“Yes, very much so. You see, apparently, the, er, bodily union is not strictly needed. It is enough that they are very close, then it can just ... happen. The bond, that is. Legolas is a bit concerned about Gimli being forced into it, even though that is not possible with elves, he is not sure how it is for mortals.” Bilbo smiles. “Just look at Gimli. Why, you only have to say Legolas’ name and his face lights up like a lamp! I am confident he is happy.”

“Aye ...” She noticed that. Still, it is a relief to know that he is bound in his very soul. He would not possibly be able to act against that. “And elves really die if their spouse is unfaithful?”

“Oh, I don’t know that for sure. It is just that they love only once, so I don’t think they are able to deal with that sort of pain. You see, Thranduil is widowed, but he looks forward to meeting his wife if or when he himself dies. He knows she is still out there, somehow.” 

“Sounds horrible.” Thorin shivers. “To be bound forever ...” It is really a good thing that this is not so with dwarves. Even though apparently it can not be forced ... just one moment of poor judgement ...

“They like it. I suppose they choose very, very well. I can’t say I would like that sort of responsibility myself – just imagine choosing wrong! – but it seems to work for them.”


	43. Chapter 43

Thorin grows rather fond of Gimli over time, even though she would never admit it. Therefore, she is rather shocked when Bilbo tells her that he left without farewell. “Legolas is injured. He wants to be with him.”

Poor Gimli. Poor Legolas. And poor Thranduil. She does not like to admit it, but Thranduil is rather decent for an elf, and a male one at that. He had no obligation to save them, and could just have taken Gimli and left. 

If news arrive that Legolas succumbed to his injuries ... maybe it would be in order to observe at least some mourning traditions. Bilbo would have to be clad in more drab colours, and a letter of sympathy would not go amiss. 

Thorin shakes her head to get rid of the sad thoughts. Legolas is still alive. There is hope, and it does not do to lose herself in planning for something that may not even come to pass. 

********

Bilbo notices that Thorin is concerned about the news. This is the first time she shows any kind of sympathy for someone who is not part of her company, and it is ... touching. Even though he dislikes seeing her so sad, he cannot help but love her even more for it. 

Part of him always knew, he muses, rocking Amber in his arms. It must have been what drew him to Thorin when she was bitter and rude. Buried under lots and lots of pain and grief, there is a wonderful, loving person. And Bilbo feels more than a little angry at the dwarf who hurt Thorin so much, who made her become so cold and unfeeling. 

“You know, too, don’t you?”, he murmurs, and Amber chuckles. She likes Thorin, often smiles at her, even though Thorin only rarely smiles back. In the Shire, they believe that little babies have some wisdom that older hobbits tend to have lost. Bilbo always thought it was one of the many small superstitions they hold to make sense of the way babies sometimes start crying for no discernible reason, but now ... maybe it is not so untrue. 

Amber never cries for no reason. She seldomly cries at all, in fact. There is her way of making unhappy little noises when she is hungry, and he usually finds Bofur before Amber gets so hungry that she cries. Then there is the sound she makes when she is tired and it’s too loud for her to sleep ... and, granted, if she has a tummyache, she does cry, but it is easily treated. In most cases she just needs to burp.   
Bombur once ran to him and asked for help because Amber cried really bad, but that was because the poor little thing had a full diaper and no one noticed. Everyone would complain about that!

“Our little sun under the mountain.” He smiles. Bofur chose that name really well – amber is one of his favourite stones, especially the bright yellow kind that looks like a small sun.


End file.
